A Certain Kind of Memory
by jamie2109
Summary: What would you do if you were given less than a year to live? An uplifting Harry Draco story.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Not Mine.

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Author's Notes: This story is completed and I'll be posting a chapter approximately every three or four days, or maybe weekly. There is major character death in this one, though you will not see the major character die, that takes place outside the text in between chapter 16 and the epilogue. Whilst the major character does die, this story was intended to be an uplifting story of finding love where you least expect it and learning to appreciate those wonderful moments we all take for granted. Thank you to my betas nocturnali and luciology, without them this might have been incoherent. 

jamie

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Prologue

How is one supposed to react when given a death sentence?

You'd think I'd be used to it by now; I feel like I've been walking around with one of those for 14 years, ever since I found out Voldemort was after me when I was 11 years old. I should be used to living on a knife's edge between life and death, right?

_Glioblastoma multiforme,_ she said.

A tumor in my brain that is going to kill me.

When she first told me I almost laughed. Arrogance perhaps, but if Voldemort hadn't managed to kill me – even though he kind of did – then a blasted tumor wasn't going to do it either.

Surely wizards…

But no. It's an extremely aggressive form of cancer. Even with the most invasive treatments the Muggles have (wizards have no flick of the wrist to cure this either) the prognosis is 5 years at best. And the majority of that would be spent in a bed, hooked up to fatal amounts of chemotherapy drugs and radiation and whatever else they'd need to keep me alive, or recovering from said treatment and preparing for the next cycle where it started all over again.

That's not living. If a cure was right around the corner, it might be different. I might cling to any remote chance that they'd find a cure before I expired, but there is no cure. There's not even the slightest indication that there will be one. And I can't give up control over my life again. Too much of my past was spent trying to live up to other people's expectations, other people's choices and needs, and the last seven years I've finally been able to manage living my own life under my own rules. I can't just hand over the responsibility for my mortality to Muggle doctors in the hope that maybe, just maybe, someone might find some miraculous cure for this insidious disease.

I can't. I won't.

Surgery will not be able to remove it all. Apparently these things can get too big before they decide to let your body know with a symptom or two that they're there.

My choices are surgery and chemotherapy, which will extend my life – maybe to five years, maybe only by one or two - but take away any quality of life I might have left. Or I can attempt to mask the symptoms for as long as possible with a wizard potion and have up to a year of living normally. Albeit with my impending death hanging over me like a shroud.

It sounds really bleak doesn't it? I sound quite cold and calculated about it. Very formal, as if I'm relating someone else's fate. Hey, it's not me; it's someone else that's dying.

If only that were the case.

Like I said before, you think I'd be used to this now. It's still not real; it doesn't feel real. I don't feel any different than before she told me. I don't feel any different than I did five years ago before the thing was even inside my head eating away my life and destroying my future.

It's alien and disgusting and I want it gone! I want my life back! Don't I deserve that much?

Why didn't I feel something this large and invasive in my head? Why does this disturbing creeping feeling tingle over my scalp every time I think about it? And I can't stop thinking about it. It's in there not only taking over my brain physically, but psychologically as well, looming up like a great dark viscous fog. And right now, I can't see past it. Or through it. Or around it.

For the second time in my life I am facing my certain death. Facing Voldemort I knew I was going to die and I accepted it. Perhaps there was always some thought in the back of my head that there was a loophole somewhere that would save me. Something always did before.

This time – it feels like fate laughing at me and saying I've used up all my luck. Bad luck. Time to go. You've used up all your credit. Check out time. Thanks for coming. Don't come back.

Thank you very fucking much.

The Healer gave me some information on my 'condition' so I could find out as much as I can about it.

Not that there seems to be much point. She gave me the basics of it. Anything else I need to know, she can tell me when I visit her monthly for the potion, which is supposed to build me up and mask the symptoms externally. The damned creepy slimy sluggish thing growing in my head will continue inexorably to take over my functioning and control of my body, but for a while the potion will allow me to retain it.

Well, until it gets too strong and breaks through the potion. Then at least the slide will be quick and painless I'm told. Maybe I need to give it a name, although dignifying it by acknowledging it gives it power over me. I can't keep calling it 'it' though, can I? Call it 'you know who' or 'that which must not be named'?

Maybe if I just don't think about it, it will go away. I mean if I hadn't gone to see her about the unusual weight loss then I'd never have known it was even in there until it debilitated me. I could have spent the last months ignorant of the limits of time I had left. Ignorance is bliss, right?

God, how do I tell everyone?

I can't. Their ignorance will be my bliss. I don't handle attention well at the best of times. And to see it in their eyes…

Does that make me a coward? Does not wanting to see the pain and grief on my friend's faces make me a coward?

It almost doesn't matter. When I'm gone they can call me what they like. Coward or no, I won't be around to see it, will I?

I won't be around to see anything. Not their weddings, or when they have children, or move house, or get a new job.

I have a year left to do everything I ever wanted in my life.

Where do I even start?


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Not Mine

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Author's notes: Please read the warnings on the prologue.

Enjoy the story

jamie

xxx

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_Bear in mind that you should conduct yourself in life as at a feast._

_ATTRIBUTION: Epictetus, Roman (Greek-born)  
slave & Stoic philosopher (55 AD - 135 AD) _

**_Chapter 1._**

As Harry stepped off the curb to cross the street, he gave only a cursory glance to the traffic; the restaurant he was approaching took up his attention. _Mario's._ It was his favourite eating place; one of those places where the owners made one feel like part of the family. It had been open for decades and the original Mario had since passed away but his eldest son had decided to carry on the restaurant in his father's name and, although he was called Giorgio, he insisted that in the restaurant he was Mario. He felt that for tradition there should always be a Mario at _Mario's._

Harry wasn't about to complain. He'd not met the original Mario but since the war he'd eaten here a lot. At first it was because it was a Muggle restaurant where he could be himself and be unrecognised. It was somewhere to escape from the madness that seemed to happen most times he went out in public. It hadn't taken long, though, for Harry to realise that he felt comfortable in this place and that Mario and the staff cared about him. He'd since spent many evenings sitting with them after they closed up for the night, listening to their stories about their families. After five years he felt like he knew Mario's whole extended family - and Italians had big families.

So when thinking about what to do for his birthday this year, it seemed reasonable to choose this restaurant. In previous years he had kept to himself, not feeling comfortable asking his wizard friends to mix with his Muggle pseudo family, especially as many of them rarely ventured to the 'other side' as Blaise called it. In past years he'd usually had Kreacher prepare a meal for whoever of his friends decided to join him.

This year was different.

The boisterous noise from the interior of the restaurant that washed over him when he opened the door made him pause, uncertain of how he was going to be able to hide his news from them all. It still felt unreal to him. On one level, he knew that he was going to die. On another level, it was still all so unbelievable. Not that it was something he could forget. No, the thing lived in his head all the time; it was hardly something he could forget. He hated it; hated that after all the years of escaping Voldemort he was going to be killing himself in the end. Ironic would have been a perfect word for it had the very thought of the situation not made him weep.

Still, his decision had been made. He was not going to tell his friends anything. By the end, he'd have had enough time to get used to it and prepare, and they'd not have to waste a year of their lives feeling sad or angry or sorry for him or, worse, pity him.

What he wanted more than anything was to spend this year (if he had a year) really appreciating and loving his friends. Taking his time to really make sure that they knew how much he loved them. And he would lean on their happiness to build up his own when he became weak with regret and loss and longing, and needed support.

Just as he took a deep breath so he'd feel ready to face the crowd, the door was pulled all the way open and Mario dragged him inside.

"Harry, Harry, what for you stand outside the door? Come in, come in!" Mario's large beefy hands (which could do the most delicate things with icing that Harry had ever seen) cupped Harry's cheeks and looked at him, searchingly. "You all right?"

"Mario, Mario," Harry replied, affecting an Italian accent and sporting a grin a mile wide. He really was glad to see Mario. "You would deny me the chance to inhale the aroma of the fine cuisine I expect to experience tonight?"

After another long look, Mario released him and presented him with a big smile. "You should come here every night so I can feed you up properly. You are too thin." There was a seriousness under Mario's smile that Harry couldn't fail to notice. He knew he'd lost weight; it was what had sent him to the Healer in the first place. On his normally slight frame, the weight loss was even more noticeable. The Healer had said that this would stop, so he hoped to be able to put some of that weight back on. Apparently it would help later – though why that would matter by then Harry wasn't sure.

He put a surprised looking smile on his face. Right now, Mario reminded him fondly of Mrs. Weasley, though she did not sport a mustache, nor was she a short fat Italian man. "I can eat quite a lot you know. I might eat all your profits," he said, joking.

Mario affected hurt. "You'd put an old man out of business? With a family to feed, the bambinos to send to the expensive universities, and a mother-in-law to look after as well?" Mario's hands were waving all over the place; Italians were wont to speak with their hands and it made Harry laugh. Mario was thirty-five and happily married to his childhood sweetheart, who was a very rich woman on her own merits and had no need of Mario's money. Nor did his mother in law.

Mario broke into a matching laugh and he slapped Harry on the back. "Happy Birthday, Harry," he said loudly as he pulled him through to the restaurant proper.

"Thanks, Mario. Any of my friends arrived yet?"

Mario shook his head. "No, you're early tonight. I am looking forward to meeting more of your friends. I hear so much about them, now I get to see for myself if they are good for you."

"Mario, you fuss over me too much, really," Harry protested, though he felt oddly grateful that he had Mario there. Something told him over the next year he'd need a lot of support.

"Nonsense, you need someone to look after you." Mario waved him away. "Until you find yourself a good man to settle down with, that is."

Harry blushed. "I can still look after myself you know," he said, narrowing his eyes. "And whoever the bloke is that I settle down with." In reality Harry knew there'd be no bloke to settle down with. Who in their right mind would get into a relationship with him now? And how could he get involved with someone, maybe fall in love, have them fall for him and then up and die on them? The sex wouldn't go astray, mind, but a relationship? … No, it wasn't fair.

Mario laughed at him. "I'm sure you would, Harry. Indulge me as a good friend and let me have some illusions. I am well aware that you are a very capable young man, but I like to think you need me for something, yes?"

"Of course, Mario," Harry grinned. "I need you to feed me."

They'd reached a set of tables near the back, which were nice and private, as Harry had requested, and Mario laughed and hugged Harry tightly. "I am so glad you chose to spend your birthday with us, Harry. You've become very much one of our family."

Harry hugged him back, moved, and a little curious about all the affection. Mario was normally affectionate, but tonight it seemed different; more intense. It was almost as if Mario knew something. But there was no way he could know. Only two people in the world knew: himself and his Healer.

"You and Vanessa and the children are like my family, too, Mario," Harry replied sincerely, moving out of the embrace eventually. "Along with Julian, Chris and Janet, I really feel like I've found a second family." It made Harry wonder why he'd never bought the Weasleys here before, where they could meet Mario and the rest. Both his families together in one place would be great. Right then he made up his mind that at some point, very soon, he would do just that. Of course Ron and Ginny would be here tonight but the rest of them could all come at some later date.

Over Mario's shoulder, Harry saw Julian wave to him. He was obviously busy with customers, and Harry knew he'd catch up with the young man later on. He waved back and sat down, Mario still fussing over the table ensuring that everything was in place. It was, as always, but that wasn't why Harry liked this place so much, it was the atmosphere and people more than the food or the surrounds that made Harry feel comfortable. While Mario headed back to the kitchen, Harry poured himself some water and drank, taking in the hustle and bustle of the busy restaurant while he waited for the rest of his guests.

Shortly, antipasto platters adorned the two tables and Harry picked at the food, selecting sun dried tomatoes and olives and a gorgeous spicy salami that burned hotly in his mouth. Janet stopped by and gave him a Happy Birthday hug and told him Chris, who was the restaurant's kitchen hand, would be out later to see him. Harry would have loved Janet to sit down with him and have a chat but, as she was working, she couldn't. She was a pretty blond with blue eyes and a killer grin. She also walked with a limp, the result of a car accident a few years ago, but she never let it stop her doing whatever she wanted. Harry admired her for that. Right now, apart from working here nights, Janet attended the local University and was taking flying lessons on the weekends to get her pilot's license. The accident had put the stopper on any air force career she might have wanted, but she could still fly commercial planes, which was what she planned on doing. Before letting her get back to work, he made her agree to have at least one drink with him later. She told him he was a terrible charmer before turning back to her other customers.

Predictably, the first to arrive were Ron and Hermione. He didn't think Hermione had ever been late for anything in her life. Harry was positive that as soon as her mum's due date arrived, Hermione Jane Granger had decided that that was enough, thank-you-very-much and she needed to be born now because any time later was _too late._ It was a quality that had driven him mad in school, seeing as he was always rushing around everywhere and forever arriving late to class. Now, he appreciated it. He appreciated everything about his two best friends.

Ron still walked like he was a gangly teenager, albeit having developed a more assertive stride. He'd become an Auror, just as he'd wanted back in fourth year. Like they'd both wanted, though their working lives had taken different roads after the war. Ron had a certain confidence about him now and Harry thought that it was having Hermione in his life because she constantly enabled him to become the best he could be, by just expecting it. Ron had never really had anyone who just expected things from him. Hermione did. She could read him like a book and just about the whole Wizarding World knew how much Hermione loved books. After the war, Hermione had taken on the job of restocking the dilapidated public library on Diagon Alley. Many of the books had become damaged and almost beyond repair, but Hermione had researched - when did she not? - and found an old bookbinder living in Sussex who had retired almost fifty years earlier. She persuaded him to come back and help her restore the public Wizarding heritage and he had agreed, Now Hermione was becoming famous for her love of books, and old Wizarding families were coming forward with donations, helping her to build a really respectable Wizarding library.

Seeing Hermione reminded Harry of a few books he'd come across hidden in his parents vault at Gringotts. He'd wanted to hang on to them as part of his own history, but he'd have no need of them soon so she should have them. He made a mental note to send them to her tomorrow.

His friends' smiles when they saw him gave his chest a twinge of regret. He still stuck by his original thought of not telling them, but he did feel some guilt. They were his best friends and he wasn't going to tell them he was dying; it was only natural that he'd feel guilt over that.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," Hermione squealed and threw her arms around him when he stood to greet them. The soft kiss she planted on his cheek made him smile. He had to treasure these memories now, each and every one of them.

"Come on, Hermione, you'll choke the poor boy to death before I even get a chance to wish him Happy Birthday," came Ron's laughing voice over Hermione's shoulder. She stepped back hushing Ron, though she blushed a bit.

"I don't mind, I think I'd prefer to hug Hermione if it's all the same to you, Ron," Harry joked, reaching for Hermione again, who laughed and whacked his arm playfully.

"That's my fiancé you're talking about there," Ron shot back, pretending anger. "Is there anything I should know about you two?"

"Oh yes, Ron, I drag him down amongst the darkest shelves of the library and shag him between Doris Blackby's _'How to Cure Genital Warts'_ and Tobias Hartley's _'101 Ways to Please Your Man'._ Hermione spoke with a completely deadpan look on her face.

For a moment Harry and Ron just stared at Hermione and then they all broke into laughter. Harry was laughing at the look on Hermione's face but then Ron turned and gave Harry a gruff hug, wishing him Happy Birthday, thumping him on the back.

"Twenty five today, hey, Harry? You'll have grey hair and a long beard before you know it," Ron teased. Harry rolled his eyes because Ron had only been saying the same thing to him each year he'd had a birthday since the war ended. Once he'd asked Ron why he always said that, and Ron had replied that he'd never thought Harry would live longer than the war and now it made him feel good to be able to think of Harry in his dotage.

That was one more thing he'd not get to see: – Ron and himself in old age, still the best of friends. Sorry, Ron, he silently apologised.

"Well, don't rush me there, mate," Harry said aloud and laughing as best he could. "Besides, you're older than me, you'll get there first."

Ron grinned and shot Hermione a loving look as they all sat down. "I have the love of a good woman to keep me young," he said. "While you, you great ponce, would rather have a big fat c-"

"Ron!" Hermione interrupted loudly.

Harry near collapsed in laughter at the look on Ron's face when he shot a glare at Hermione, only to find her indicating that he look around the room. When Ron did he saw that everyone had been watching them. Poor Ron, he blushed so deeply that Harry could barely tell the difference between his face and his hair. Harry found Ron's mortification hilarious and, by the looks on the faces of some of the patrons, so did they.

Luckily for Ron, Luna and Daphne's entrance diverted their attention. Every time Harry saw the two of them, he shook his head. Luna was still her delightfully eccentric self and dressed accordingly. Tonight's ensemble consisted of a rainbow of coloured scarves that draped over a barely there strip of something across her chest, a short striped skirt and long pink stockings. She was certainly colourful. Actually she fitted in better in the Muggle world than she did in the Wizarding world. Dressing differently was nothing unusual here and no one gave her a second look.

Nor did anyone worry about Daphne, who was very severe in a black suit that looked like it had just been on a Ralph Lauren model. Daphne wore her hair short and slicked back and strode around like she owned the place. The two of them together though turned more than one head, especially since Luna decided to sprinkle everyone she passed on her way to the table, with something she said would banish the Nargles and stop them messing with the brain.

Their entrance had drawn Mario's attention, Harry saw, and he caught Mario's eye seeing the question in them. He shook his head in reply, indicating that Luna was harmless. Harry stood and watched their progress. It was an old saying that opposites attract, and in these two Harry found it the truth. Daphne put up with all Luna's oddities; said she found them completely endearing. You only had to look into her eyes while she spoke of Luna and you could see that it was real.

Luna told Harry once that Daphne was one of those damaged souls that had lost its colour. She said that she had lots of colour and that was the way to make Daphne free of her sadness. Harry thought that Luna needed Daphne as much as Daphne needed Luna. They gravitated together. He'd seen it; even if they were at opposite ends of the room at a party or function, within minutes they'd be subconsciously edging their way into the middle where they'd stand together and draw something from each other. Often it was Daphne leaning in to whisper some words to Luna, whose face would light up, but sometimes it would be Luna who placed a hand on Daphne's arm, kiss her cheek gently and lay her head on Daphne's shoulder.

Harry wondered how two people so opposite in looks and temperament, seemed to need each other so much. He supposed it was love, but never having been in love he couldn't see himself ever feeling like he needed anyone that much.

And now there wasn't much chance of him falling in love was there? Not at this late stage and not in such a short space of time. That was one thing he'd never have the chance of doing.

He wondered, as he smiled at his new guests, if he should make a list of things he'd never get to do now.

"God, what does she look like?" Hermione whispered beside him, with an amused smile on her face. Hermione had long since moved past her initial dismissal of Luna and they were now fast friends. Even if, as Ron teased, she was dating a slimy snake.

It seemed to bring Harry back to the present and he blinked a little and smiled. "She looks like our Luna," he said, happily.

Then Luna was in his arms, having lunged at him. "Harry Potter, Happy Birthday," she cried, giving him a kiss on his cheek. "Whatever it is, Harry, it's not going to be anything like you expect," she said enigmatically. It spooked Harry a little, because that was twice tonight he felt like someone knew about his illness, which he knew was impossible. But Luna had always come out with these odd statements, saying that someone told her to pass the message on and she had no idea what it meant, either.

Eventually, he managed to smile and release her. "I'll remember that, Luna, thanks." He turned to Daphne, who was watching Luna with a puzzled expression, though she too knew this was nothing new. "Daphne," he said, smiling.

"Harry. Happy Birthday," she responded and held out her hand for him to shake. This was pretty normal as Daphne wasn't one to show too much emotion in public. However, it was his birthday and he wanted a hug.

He pulled her in for a quick hug, and Daphne awkwardly hugged him back. "Thanks," he said when he pulled back, smiling. "You found the place all right, obviously," he said.

"Obviously," she agreed, rolling her eyes at him and sitting down next to Ron, greeting both him and Hermione with a nod. Luna sat beside her.

Julian arrived to take their orders for drinks. After introductions, in which Luna asked Julian outright if he was gay and single and Harry blushed while Julian laughed, they ordered drinks.

When Julian left, after assuring Harry that he wasn't embarrassed, Harry turned to Luna and gave her an exasperatedly amused stare.

"What?" she said. "How are you going to know if you don't ask?"

"Julian is like family to me, I know he's very straight and has a girlfriend, thanks Luna," Harry laughed. How could he not be amused by Luna's directness? And impressed by it?

"Oh, so that means you thought he was cute?" Hermione asked, teasing.

"No, that means I know him well," Harry replied. Julian was cute though; he had to admit to having a preference for blonds. Not that he'd ever thought about anything with Julian, it was just easy to admit he was cute and then move on.

"Got a nice arse, though," Daphne said, and Harry saw her watching Julian walking away. All five of them turned and watched then. Yeah, he concluded, Julian did have a nice arse.

"Speaking of arses," Ron said. "Not that I think about blokes arses, mind, but Malfoy's just walked in. I bet he's one you'd like to -" But he broke off at a thump from Hermione, turning to glare at her. "What?"

"Do you have to be so crude?"

"I was just about to wonder why those two never got together…"

Harry ignored them and turned to see Draco Malfoy enter the restaurant. He had to admit Ron was right to wonder; he wondered himself sometimes. Draco Malfoy was still pointy and blond and still pretended he thought he was better than everyone else at times, but only at times. He was, however, extremely fit and gay and single. Some people automatically assumed that wherever two single gay blokes were, they simply had to hook up, and they'd both faced the not-so-subtle machinations of more than one of their friends who'd attempted to get them together.

But they'd talked about it before, and apart from the fact that they didn't want to be seen as getting together because they were the only single gay blokes in their group, they both felt it would be too odd to be having a relationship with a friend. Complications always arose when friends dated and then split up. Harry knew himself too well and he had never managed to survive a relationship more than a few days, a week at most. What's more, after all the years of disliking each other they'd finally come to a place where they knew each other's problems, from Harry's inability to sustain a relationship to Draco's financial woes. Besides, according to Draco, he didn't do relationships because they tended to get too emotional and messy and he'd rather have fewer complications in his life.

After the war, most of the Malfoy possessions had been lost, confiscated for 'war reparations' or so they said. Harry was of the opinion that the Ministry had taken the opportunity for a bit of revenge against Lucius Malfoy for all the years he'd bribed and blackmailed Ministry officials to get what he wanted. Not that Harry minded. Lucius still had his life, though it was spent in isolation in Azkaban. Narcissa lived with Andromeda now, so Draco still had both his parents alive at least. So many other people had died.

Unfortunately the fall out of the decline of the Malfoy name didn't stop there. Draco found it hard to get a job. No one seemed prepared to hire an ex-would-be Death Eater with his name, no matter how good he was at Potions. When the Apothecary found a potion difficult to make or they were snowed under, they would send him their work and pay him for it, but they wouldn't hire him permanently. What they paid was enough for Draco to live on. Just. He had a small flat in one of the lanes behind Diagon Alley, which he kept as neat as he was able, and he was very independent. Impressively, he wasn't terribly bitter about losing everything, not after he'd come so close to losing his family and his life. It appeared to have helped him grow up.

Now, Harry smiled when Draco approached the table. He was dressed neatly, still very particular about his clothing. Even though he had no money to afford fashionable new clothes, he made sure that he spent time keeping what he did have well cared for. Even Muggle attire looked good on him, and Harry supposed it was lucky that the Muggle fashion was well worn clothing.

The smile on Draco's face was warming, and Harry stood and held out his arms for a hug.

"Potter, you don't look a day over thirty," Draco joked when he pulled back. "You'd think by the time you'd reached the grand old age of twenty-five you'd have learnt to do something about that hair of yours." It was an old joke by now.

"Watch who you're calling old, Malfoy. You're older than I am, and you'd think that once you'd reached the grand old age of twenty-five you'd have learnt to watch what comes out of your mouth," Harry retorted, laughing.

"Oh, I have enough fun watching what goes _in_ my mouth. I know perfectly well nothing comes out of it that I don't want to, so choke on it, Potter."

There was a casual flirty look in Draco's eyes with that made Harry laugh at the obvious double meaning and he heard Ron in the background whinging to Hermione.

"And you're worried about what I might say?" he complained.

Draco turned to the rest of the group, greeting them all in turn and they smiled at him. Luna passed him a glass of wine and Draco turned back to Harry and raised it. "Happy Birthday, Harry,"

"Thanks, Draco," Harry replied softly, nodding at him. Draco winked at him and then turned to speak to Daphne about the product she used in her hair to get it slicked down that well.

Harry's attention was dragged away by Hermione. "I'm glad you two never got together," she said, quietly. "You'd both be killing each other in under a month."

Harry laughed. "You think?"

"Yes, I do," she said, brown curls bobbing lightly. "You've never lived with anyone before, your relationships have consisted of the odd snogging session here and there and, from what Ron tells me – and that's not much, so don't worry about him revealing any deep dark secrets – the occasional groping session or more in the back of a nightclub. You couldn't have a proper relationship if you tried, Harry Potter." Her voice was amused but Harry wondered if he were really that bad. Sure he could do it if he wanted to. Before. Not now he couldn't. But before he could have, he was sure. He'd had visions of when he was older, sitting on a verandah overlooking a lake, on a late summer evening with that someone special, not needing to talk, just enjoying each other's presence…

Not likely that's going to happen now.

He remained silent, hoping that Hermione would change the subject but, alas, she was intent on telling him more. "He's just as bad. He hates that he can't afford anything nice, refuses to let any of us help him and therefore thinks he has nothing to offer anyone, which he conveniently hides by using the fact that he thinks all relationships are messy."

"But he has lots to offer someone," Harry protested quietly, noting that the rest of the group weren't paying them any attention, fortunately.

"He doesn't think so. To him, because he was brought up in a materialistic atmosphere, unless you can give your partner a comfortable home, nice clothes and a lot of material possessions, then you're not worth much as a partner. He does know that there are more important things, it's just hard to get that out of him – he's a man and he needs to think he'll be a good provider."

"Since when did you do a psychological profile on Draco?" Harry asked, grinning, because Hermione was usually right.

"I've known him as long as you have, Harry, but more since I've had him come into the Library two days a week and help me sort through the books the Ministry recently released from Malfoy Manor. He's the only one who understands a lot of them and so I can offer him a valid job for a little while."

"I didn't know they'd done that," Harry said.

"Well, they only did it a couple of weeks ago; I thought Ron mentioned something to you."

"I think I've been kind of preoccupied lately, sorry," Harry said.

"Anything bothering you? I noticed that you've been a bit quiet recently."

"Nothing's bothering me, I'm fine," Harry lied.

Just then Seamus, Pansy, Ginny, Blaise, Neville and Hannah all showed up at the same time and there was a bit of pandemonium as everyone greeted each other, rearranging themselves and sorting out seats. Harry wondered why they all arrived together, but Neville explained that by saying that he and Hannah had been at Blaise and Ginny's place earlier, as the girls had been organising Neville's party which was to be next week so that it didn't clash with Harry's. They had all come together and had just by luck stumbled across Seamus in Diagon Alley, and Pansy's taxi had arrived just as they did.

Mario arrived to take their orders. He immediately endeared himself to them by kissing each of the ladies on the hand, and he impressed Blaise and Draco when he had their favourite pasta sauce made from the traditional old recipe

Once drinks had been poured, and cheers raised to Harry again, the talk turned to catching up on news about what everyone had been doing lately. Ginny played Quidditch for the Holyhead Harpies and loved it. They were in the off season, but had started training and so she was busy with that. Blaise was content to play house husband and they lived off Ginny's earnings for now, though it wasn't hard, since Ginny was a very well paid player. Draco used to take a shot at Blaise for not working but he just shrugged off the teasing. Blaise said that while Ginny could still play and make a career out of it, she was the important one and he was happy to take care of things off the field. When she retired it would be his turn to work at what he wanted… when he could figure out what that was.

Neville had recently finished a world-renowned Advanced Herbology course and was now working in the Ministry research and development division, creating new medicines from plant life. He'd married Hannah two years after the war and they were expecting their first child. Neville had been insisting they call it Harry if it was a boy but Harry would prefer him not to, even though he was very moved by the thought.

Pansy moved into the world of teaching; something Harry was extremely surprised about as she hadn't been all that smart in school. But she seemed to have an affinity with small children, and they adored her, so she became a pre-school teacher. Draco joked once that it was because they were the same intellectual age. Pansy thumped him one but laughed all the same.

Seamus, well, Seamus scored a job with the _Daily Prophet _in their gossip division. They'd all teased him, asking if he'd had to learn to be an Animagus before he could really do Rita Skeeter's job properly. Mostly he scowled at them and then hid a little snippet about the offender in the last line of his column. He never mentioned them by name, but included enough detail so that whoever had joked with him about it, knew it was them. It was a joke as much as a threat and they all appreciated it. Seamus was good though; he never printed anything about any of them without checking it with them first. He said he'd learnt back in fifth year that friendships are worth more than any job.

Food began arriving and Harry became lost in the jumble of conversations that were taking place around him. He had Hermione on one side of him and Ginny on the other and was half listening to a conversation between Hermione and Luna on one side and Ginny and Seamus on the other. Snatches of conversation about the latest rumour Seamus had heard about one of Ginny's teammates, crossed with pieces of a discussion on the veracity of the latest sighting of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, which Hermione vehemently refused to believe in while Luna took great pains to explain about the sightings and how reliable the source was.

Blaise was sitting opposite him and watching his wife with soft eyes. Occasionally, he'd meet Harry's eyes and raise his eyebrow but generally they were both eating and surrounded by chattering people and so they didn't say a word.

When dessert was delivered to their tables in the form a hazelnut cream cassata birthday cake, the conversation was flowing easily and Harry was feeling rather mellow from the numerous glasses of wine he'd had with his meal. He'd actually hoped that he would escape the traditional singing of Happy Birthday. It was enough for him to be spending it with his friends without everyone in the restaurant knowing as well. Unfortunately, Mario had other ideas and staged a big production about bringing the cake out, covered in lit candles. A man playing a violin like a fiddle accompanied it, and the tune of Happy Birthday caught the attention of the customers as much as the brightly lit cake did.

Soon, everyone in the restaurant was joining in and singing to wish Harry a Happy Birthday. He was blushing now but didn't hide from it; he doubted he would have another birthday and he wanted to remember this last one for as long as he could.

The cake in front of him burned brightly and he looked out at all of his friends, smiling.

"Make a wish, Harry," Mario said, and Harry sighed. No matter what he wished, he wouldn't be around to enjoy it for long and what he really wanted, he could never have. If he wished for some miracle cure, it would never happen. If he wished to never have developed this disease in the first place, that could never happen either. Perhaps he could wish that his friends didn't hurt too much when he was gone. As he looked around at their faces, he realised that was another thing that couldn't come true. He would have to settle for wishing that he could make them all happy during this next year or so and that the hurt they'd suffer would be crowded out by the happiness of their memories of him. One day.

"Yes, Potter, make a wish. Some of us would like to eat the cake before it's covered in a layer of candle wax," Draco drawled, the hint of fondness flashing in his eyes giving the lie to his words.

"I might wish to see the back of your pointy face, Malfoy," Harry replied in kind. Then he closed his eyes and made his wish, before opening them and blowing out all the candles in one breath. He thought the cheering hilarious and he wondered if it was supposed to make him feel like he'd just performed some death-defying act or some super human feat, like no one in the history of man had ever blown out twenty-five candles on a birthday cake before.

But he was in such a good mood, despite his limited future, that he only laughed at his own sarcasm. Lots of hugs and slaps on the back later, Mario had cut the cake and served it and they were all enjoying it with coffee or cappuccino. He'd had such a good evening and he reminded himself, not for the first time this evening, to treasure each and every moment.

As he took a sip of his coffee, the violinist who had accompanied the raucous singing earlier, began to play music and he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Hermione brighten at the sound. Harry had no idea what it was, but it was music for lovers to slow dance to. Hermione grabbed Ron's hand and dragged him to the small dance floor in the middle of the restaurant. They moved together with such ease and fit together so well that Harry was momentarily jealous. Of course he was more than pleased that his two best friends were so perfect for each other and loved each other to distraction, there was no question there. Perhaps it was the twinge of something missing in his own life that was causing the spot of jealousy.

Shortly, other couples joined Ron and Hermione and the floor was soon filled with couples swaying slowly to the music, pressed closely together held in the spell of the notes.

Daphne was very formal in asking Luna to dance; she stood in front of her and performed a neat bow. "Luna, may I have the pleasure of this dance?" she asked.

"Of course, Daphne, dear," Luna responded and took Daphne's hand, performing a small curtsey when she stood.

Harry watched them fondly as Daphne folded Luna's hand into the crook of her arm and led her to the dance floor, where she swung her into her arms and swirled her around the floor.

Neville and Hannah were next and Seamus begged Pansy for a dance, leaving Harry and Draco by themselves at the table. Draco moved around to sit next to Harry and in comfortable silence they watched their friends.

"The mind completely boggles at the thought that Greengrass and Lovegood are still together," Draco said from beside him, looking at them from over the rim of his wine glass.

"I don't know," Harry replied. "They say opposites attract and you couldn't get more opposite than those two."

"Unless you count us, Potter," Draco said smirking.

"We mustn't be that opposite." Harry grinned back.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, you're not attractive at all," Harry teased.

"Wanker," Draco retorted with a snort, though he laughed a moment later.

There was a short silence then while Harry again watched his friends dancing. Yes, there was definitely some significant amount of jealousy simmering away inside him. He supposed that it wasn't just that his friends seemed happy and in love, it was also the fact that they could plan a future with the person they loved. There was some certainty, a confidence that there would be a future, there would be that someone special there for the rest of their lives.

If he wasn't careful he'd start feeling sorry for himself and he didn't want to do that. Not tonight. Not any time, really, though he knew there'd be times when it all got too much for him to take with good grace and he'd lash out at whoever was closest. For now, right here in the restaurant, he didn't want to spoil what had been a wonderful evening.

He must have sighed, because Draco put his glass down and turned to look at him. "You've been quieter than normal tonight. Everything all right?" Draco Malfoy showing concern for someone was a new thing, developed over the years since the war, when he realised that he needed to look after his friends as much as they looked after him.

"No, I'm fine. Just looking at them on the dance floor enjoying each other, made me wistful for a moment there, that's all."

"Did you want to dance, then? I'm sure I could put up with you standing on my feet for a dance."

Harry shot him a glare, but he was smiling. "You just want to get your hands on my body," he quipped.

Draco laughed and turned back in his seat, rolling his eyes. "Oh yes, and Elvis was really a wizard."

"He was?" Harry asked cheekily.

"Hell, no," Draco replied. "If he was do you really think he'd have let himself go like that?"

"I know, you prat," Harry laughed, elbowing Draco.

As he watched his friends dancing and enjoyed the solid warmth of Draco beside him, Harry felt a calm peace wash over him, even if it was tinged with loneliness. Draco's head dropped onto Harry's shoulder after a while and Harry smiled at him and didn't shrug him off.

tbc


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Not Mine.

* * *

Author's Notes; Enjoy the chapter.

jamie

xxx

* * *

_Usually when people are sad, they don't do anything.  
They just cry over their condition.  
But when they get angry, they bring about a change._

_ATTRIBUTION:__Malcolm X. Malcolm X Speaks, 1965.  
US black nationalist leader (1925 - 1965)_

The morning after the night before found Harry sleeping late and none too happy with the light filtering in through his curtains. Even if it was a weak summer sun, it was still light enough to make him want to curse the curtains shut and burrow back underneath his covers for the rest of the day.

When he finally emerged, the day was half gone and he was not surprised that when he checked the clock it was already after lunch time. He was filled with a lethargy that was not the result of the amount of alcohol he'd consumed the previous night, although the faint pounding in his head would suggest otherwise. Of course that could be the fucking _growth_ in his head drowning in the alcohol. Now, wouldn't that be a miracle?

With a bitter laugh, Harry admitted that he'd probably used up all his miracles and said miracle was probably not going to be forthcoming this time. Perhaps if he begged God or Merlin, one of them would allow a small miracle. Though it would surely have to be a bloody large one to save him, now.

Harry kicked the covers off his bed and stalked into the shower, though why he bothered he didn't know. What reason did he have to get up and get clean and dressed for, anyway? The world wasn't going to end if he spent the day in bed, or the week or the month…

Standing under the spraying jets and letting the hot water beat down on his head lessened the thumping and made it feel better, calming him slightly. This bitterness wasn't going to solve anything. He still had this thing in his head; he was still going to die and he still had no idea what he was going to do with the time he had left. He sighed and began to wash his hair. As he massaged the shampoo into his scalp he wondered how close the tumor was under the skull, whether or not he was almost touching it, what it would feel like. Could he just dig his fingers in and pull it out if he tried hard enough? He grunted in pain as he realised that he was in fact trying to do just that and his nails were scratching at his scalp. Fucking hell! He leant against the tiled wall of the shower, sagging under the weight of the knowledge that there was something growing in his brain and he could do nothing about it.

Death was such an intangible thing. He'd faced it too many times in the past to let it frighten him into running away from it, but that didn't mean he understood it. A year, if he had that long, was a year. 52 weeks, 365 days. And he had to plan to spend every one of them cramming as much _living_ into them as possible, Standing in the shower feeling sorry for himself wasn't going to accomplish that.

But, what could he do? Apart from offing Voldie and playing Quidditch, there wasn't a lot he could do, really. So, where did that leave him? A wealthy layabout, with more money than time left on the planet. Harry supposed that was one silver lining; at least he didn't have to work at some dead end job in order to pay his bills.

Feeling not much better than before his shower, he was dressing when the doorbell rang.

"Hang on," he shouted down the hall towards the front door. He dragged a t-shirt over his head, shoved one leg in his jeans and hopped down the hall attempting to get the other leg in.

When he opened the door, Draco was there, leaning against the frame and looking like he just stepped out of a Muggle fashion magazine. "How do you do that?" Harry asked, as he pulled his jeans up all the way and pulled the zipper up, leaving the button undone.

"Do what?" Draco asked "And don't leave me standing here on the doorstep, it's most impolite and your neighbours will think you don't like me. Mrs. Bowthistle has already been looking daggers at me. Protecting your reputation are they?" he drawled.

Harry stepped aside, laughing. "At least they don't come at you with daggers, like your neighbours," Harry joked. "And how do you always manage to look like some fancy model when you never have any money?"

"Breeding, Potter, breeding." Draco smirked and entered the flat, clucking Harry's chin as he passed and headed up the hallway to the kitchen. "I'll thank you not to disparage my neighbours, thank you very much. They saved my life one night. And stop ogling my arse," Draco finished with a small swish of his hips.

Harry blushed as he had in fact been watching Draco's arse in those tight jeans as he walked up the hallway, but he covered it. "Just looking to see if I could actually see an arse there. You have no arse, Malfoy," he said seriously.

Draco's eyes narrowed as he swung around to face Harry. Then he smiled. "Oh, I see. You don't have those four-inch thick spectacles of yours on. No wonder you couldn't find my arse. Do be a love and go and put them on, you look even more moronic without them if that's possible."

Harry laughed. "Or maybe I can just feel to see if you have an arse," he teased and gave Draco's bum a quick slap as he walked passed to the bedroom to get his glasses. "Make yourself a drink," he called over the squeak of protest.

As he hunted for his glasses, not remembering where he'd put them when he got home the previous night, he became aware that Draco had somehow put him in a much better mood. Obviously, it was being alone that was bringing on the self-pity, so he would have to make sure that he spend as little time alone as possible.

Spotting his glasses half underneath his pillow, he cleaned them, put them on and returned to the kitchen, finding Draco pouring them both some orange juice from the fridge.

"So," Draco said. "The scratch Quidditch game tomorrow. You playing?"

"Yeah, I thought I'd turn up," Harry replied, taking the juice and sipping at it. "You?" Sipping the juice made him realise he was hungry, so he made himself a bowl of cereal and sat down at the table to eat it.

"I suppose so," Draco said, an enigmatic look on his face.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, and Draco blinked and looked at him.

"Oh, nothing I can't handle. Some of the guys still don't take too kindly to me showing up for those games, that's all."

"Well, tough luck for them. You're entitled to play just as much as they are. Don't let them get to you," Harry said around a mouthful of cereal.

"Urgh, do you have to speak with your mouth full?" Draco grimaced. "You're right though, I know I shouldn't but…" He sat down opposite Harry. "It can get a bit old. How long do these people keep grudges for, anyway? It's been more than five years since the war ended."

"I know, you'd think they'd grow up at some point."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "This from the man that eats Cheerios?"

Harry grinned and whacked Draco's hand with the spoon as he tried to steal some from the bowl. "Get your own."

"So cruel." Draco shook his head, but he did get himself a bowl, some cereal and the milk before sitting back down at the table. "I just wish things could be different," he said, returning to the earlier conversation.

Harry nodded. "They make me so angry with their narrow minded prejudices. People like Smith and Finch-Fletchly haven't learnt a thing from the war," he said, annoyed. "Just because they were on the side that won, so to speak, they think it validates every arrogant, bigoted thing they've ever been taught or thought about."

"To be fair, Harry, I'd have been the same, had I been on the right side."

"That doesn't make it right. Sometimes it makes me feel like I fought the war for nothing. When I see some things haven't changed…"

Draco interrupted him. "Stop it, Harry. Don't even think that. I can understand the frustration but surely even you must see that things are a hundred times better than they were."

"Yes, but then there are people like you, who didn't deserve to have everything taken away and then not be able to find a job…" Harry stopped then because he knew Draco hated talking about the state of his finances.

"I'm all right, Harry." Draco frowned and looked down into his cereal bowl. "Hermione's given me some work and with what I get from the Apothecary, I make ends meet," he said quietly, and Harry could see a blush creeping up the side of his neck.

"I know you do," he answered. "I wish you'd let me help you, though," he added, silently.

"And there did need to be some form of punishment. My family was on the wrong side of everything, after all."

They'd discussed this many times before and Harry allowed that Draco felt the need to make reparations but, honestly, Draco had lost virtually everything. Wasn't that enough? Did it have to ruin the rest of his life as well? Especially seeing as both Draco and his mother had done what they could to keep Harry alive during the war. Without either one of them, things would have had a very different outcome. But it seemed that no matter how hard Harry tried, some people felt that a Malfoy should always have to pay and they forgot that the son was not the father and that the man was not the frightened teenager.

"Stop that," Harry said sharply. "You've paid more than enough and you know it." He wasn't going to let Draco fall into a resentful frame of mind. "Why are you here, anyway?" he asked, changing the subject.

It seemed to work, as Draco looked up and smiled. "I came to see if you wanted to have a bit of a practice run on the brooms before tomorrow."

Harry grinned. "For a pain in the arse you sure have good ideas," he said. "I'll get my broom."

"I keep telling you it's in the breeding, Potter, but you refuse to believe me," Draco replied turning his nose up, the effect of which was ruined by cheerios falling off his spoon and into his milk, splashing his shirt. "Oh, bugger," he exclaimed, brushing the drops off. "Potter, do you have a shirt I can borrow?"

Harry, still seated at the table was doing his best not to laugh aloud. "Of course, come on," he said, standing and heading through to the bedroom. "As long as there's no complaints about colour, quality or anything else," Harry warned, throwing open his closet and grabbing one of his better t-shirts and tossing it to Draco.

"I think I can manage to bite my tongue just this once," Draco replied.

"Right, well I'll grab my broom while you change," Harry said, delving into the closet once more for his broom which was standing at the end, leaning on the wall. "Hey," Harry said, suddenly realising something. "Where's your broom?"

He turned and watched as Draco removed his shirt and reached for the t-shirt.

"I thought it easier to shrink it," Draco said as he pulled the t-shirt on. Then he reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a miniature broom, which he quickly restored to normal size. "There," he said. "Let's go so I can kick your arse."

There was a challenge in Draco's eyes and Harry felt the familiar competitive spirit flare in him that reared itself each and every time he played Draco. It was unusual, he thought, that this specific feeling of rivalry, of having to win, only really appeared when it was Draco he was flying against. To be honest, he'd not found too many others that were decent competition for him. None that he found exciting to fly against, anyway.

"We'll see," Harry challenged back, and led the way out of the bedroom with a swish of his own hips. "And stop looking at my arse, Malfoy." He hoped that would distract Draco just enough to give him the edge.

A few hours later and Harry was feeling on top of the world. Flying had always done it for him; made him feel like he owned the skies. The sharp flush of wind across his face, threading his hair and making his eyes water left him breathless. The daredevil rolls and spins he pushed himself and his broom into tested his muscles sorely, and the competition with Draco tested his stamina and his drive. And he bloody loved it. It was almost enough to make him forget.

They'd released a practice Snitch and chased it up and down the pitch numerous times. Most times Harry won but occasionally Draco did. Each time Draco won he crowed.

"Getting slow in your old age are you, Potter?"

"Care to count how many you've actually won, Malfoy?" Harry yelled back, taking off as Draco released the Snitch once more.

"Ah, but I remember the days when I could never beat you. Ever," Draco called back, pulling alongside him as they raced for the Snitch.

"Well, you're not going to win this one," Harry scowled, right before he dived to his left, the Snitch having swerved there unexpectedly. With a quick sweep of his hand he palmed the tiny fluttering golden ball and held it up above his head. Maybe he was slowing down, Harry didn't really care; while he could he was going to enjoy flying and winning as many times as he could manage. Besides, losing to Draco wasn't as bad as he'd thought. Losing kept him on his toes, made him try harder and enjoy it more.

It was late in the afternoon by the time they decided they'd had enough. By then they'd lost count of who won how many times and, to be honest, Harry knew neither of them cared all that much. They were both exhausted and flushed and Harry had had a brilliant day, which only reinforced his decision not to tell his friends anything about his disease. They'd be too scared he'd hurt himself or they'd try to cosset him too much to enjoy this type of day again if they knew. He wanted to enjoy his friends in the time he had left, not suffer their fears for him. It might be selfish but it was his death not theirs.

But the thought of spending his evening alone wasn't appealing after the day he'd had.

"Come back for dinner," Harry said. "We can get some take away; I'm too knackered to cook tonight."

"Make it Indian and you're on," Draco replied. "I'm paying for my share though," he added.

"Nope," Harry said, shaking his head. "I asked you, so I'm paying. You can ask me next time."

Draco smirked. "Is this a date, Potter?"

Harry laughed. "No, just don't feel like being alone," Harry answered, frowning a little and looking away, hoping that Draco wasn't going to ask why he suddenly wasn't happy with his own company.

"I suppose I can play hero and rescue you from the boredom that is your life," Draco allowed as they made their way back to Harry's.

When they arrived, Harry ordered Indian food from the restaurant down the street while Draco showered. He grabbed a couple of towels and knocked on the bathroom door, opening it and stepping through.

"Dinner will be about ten minutes," he called to the steam filled shower cubicle.

"Did you get some poppadoms?" Draco asked.

"Double," Harry confirmed. "There's a couple of towels here, too for when you get out."

"Oh, great," Draco said, turning off the tap and stepping out of the shower, water dripping everywhere. "Thanks. Knew I'd forgotten something."

Harry laughed. Draco looked like a drowned rat with his fine blond hair plastered down the sides of his face. "This must be the shortest shower you've ever taken," he said.

Draco smirked. "Seeing as you saw fit to interrupt my privacy, I saw fit to make sure it was worth your while." Draco reached for a towel, not flaunting himself but not hiding anything either.

"Okay," Harry laughed, not bothering to hide that he was looking. What did it matter if Draco knew Harry thought him pretty damned hot? It wasn't as if he was going to have to live with Draco teasing him about it for long.

A cloud passed over his face at that thought and he turned to leave the bathroom. "I'll let you finish in peace and I'll shower when you're done."

"Potter…Harry," Draco grabbed his wrist and Harry turned round to look into Draco's amused eyes. "You don't have to leave, I'm almost finished here." He let go of Harry's wrist and wrapped the towel around himself as if to prove it. "All done."

"So, I see," Harry said, smile back on his face.

"Shower is all yours," Draco said slyly and not moving.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "You just want to see me naked."

"Fair's fair."

"Get out of here, you git," Harry said grinning. He pushed Draco out the door, his wet hair still dripping all over the place. Having Draco see his naked body would make his weight loss look even more pronounced than it did clothed. The questions that Draco would ask were not ones that Harry wanted to answer.

He quickly showered and dressed and arrived back in the lounge just as the food was delivered. And only just in time as Draco was fishing money from his wallet. Harry growled and Draco rolled his eyes and put it away.

Harry paid the delivery man, then took the packages of food through to the lounge. Draco collected plates and forks and they both sat cross-legged on the floor, the food on the coffee table, ready to eat.

"I told you I was paying," Harry said, dishing them both up some chicken curry.

"And you know I hate being paid for," Draco retorted, standing and heading back into the kitchen for a couple of bottles of Butterbeer.

"I already said you could get it the next time," Harry argued, taking the offered bottle and opening it. "Don't wreck a perfect day because you get your knickers in a twist about a friend buying you dinner."

"It makes me feel like I can't look after myself, Potter," Draco said, frowning.

"I know you can. Merlin, everyone knows you can and you're doing a bloody brilliant job of it, too, so don't stress over one little dinner. I promise I'll order lobster when you're paying," Harry said. He knew Draco was proud of being able to support himself and not need handouts or charity but a simple meal with a friend was just a meal and no big deal.

"You would, too," Draco groaned, finally smiling and digging in to the curry. "This is really good, though. You eat out from there often?" he asked, lifting the bottle of Butterbeer to his lips.

"No, not really," Harry replied, "Though it depends on what you call often. Is often when they know what I like to order? If so, then yes, I guess I do."

"Must cost you a fortune," Draco said, no trace of envy in his voice.

"Not really. There's only me anyway. I do cook most nights but it's not so much fun cooking for yourself. Tends to take a lot of the enjoyment out of it," Harry said. "Especially when I don't cook all that well."

"You need to find yourself a partner," Draco said, lifting his bowl to his chest and leaning back against the couch to eat.

"I wish," Harry said softly, knowing there'd be no one in his life. But then Draco was in the same boat, he should take his own advice. "What about you?" he asked after a moment.

Draco spluttered. "You want me?"

"Oh, no…" laughed Harry. "Sorry, I was thinking of something else. I meant why are you on your own?" He remembered what Hermione had said the previous night and he wondered what spin Draco would put on it.

"Haven't found the right person yet," Draco said around a mouthful of Butterbeer. At Harry's disbelieving look, he shrugged. "What do I have to offer, Harry? I can barely keep myself let alone set up a home with someone else."

"What about dating though? Surely you date?" Harry was sure he'd seen Draco out with some bloke or other over the years.

"Occasionally, though nothing serious. Serious is too emotional. Serious is too selfless. I'd have to start thinking about the other person and putting their needs above my own and I'm not ready for that. I'm still about survival and for me at the moment to survive means I have to be selfish. Love is not selfish, so love is not for me."

Harry thought about that while Draco ate. He could see Draco's point.

"So, what about the Chosen One. Why hasn't he found love yet?"

Harry scoffed. "Just as hard for me as it is for you to find someone. I have to get past my name too, you know."

"But they're all lining up to be able to say they fucked…" Draco inclined his bottle towards Harry who'd narrowed his eyes at him, "or were fucked by the Chosen One."

"And therein lies the problem," Harry muttered.

"You're kidding me? All these years and I thought you'd been swimming in sex and groupies and you never…?"

"Of course I have," Harry protested. "Only I go into Muggle London to clubs and become anonymous. That way I know they're after the sex and not the prestige that goes with the name."

Draco finished off his curry and started picking at the poppadoms. "Doesn't solve your problem about finding a partner, does it?"

"What do you suggest? A Glamour? That's not having them like me for me, either. Anyway, it doesn't matter," Harry said, frowning. "Hermione thinks I couldn't do a relationship if I tried." Suddenly the conversation was making him feel depressed. "Another Butterbeer?"

He got up when Draco nodded, walked through to the kitchen and opened the door of the fridge. All the while he had the feeling that he wanted more time. More time in which to find someone and experience that overwhelming joy of being a part of something. Like Daphne and Luna.

A few moments later, he was still standing at the open fridge, thinking, when the noise of Draco dropping plates into the sink made him blink and realise what he'd been doing. He reached for the cold bottles, and went to close the door, but he felt two warm arms wrap around him and Draco's chin on his shoulder.

"Don't brood, Potter, it doesn't become you."

Harry huffed and relaxed into the embrace and Draco's arms tightened a bit more around him.

"Merlin, you're all skin and bone, Harry. What on earth have you been doing to yourself?"

Damn. Harry disentangled himself from Draco's arms and muttered that he'd had an off week where he hadn't felt well and not been able to eat and he was making up for it now and eating properly. Ignoring Draco's doubtful look, he handed him the unopened bottle and headed back to the lounge, feeling uneasy and very much like time was starting to tick away from him and he still had no idea what he was going to do with himself.


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Not Mine:

* * *

Author's Notes: Enjoy. Mwah!

jamie

xxx

* * *

_Through open doors, the dining-room declares  
A larger loneliness of knives and glass  
And silence laid like carpet. _

_ATTRIBUTION: Philip Larkin (1922–1986), British poet. _

_Friday Night in the Royal Station Hotel._

Waking alone had only one good thing going for it, Harry decided next morning as he stretched and sat up on the edge of his bed. That he didn't have to care about morning breath.

Everything else about it was pure rubbish. Bollocks.

He wasn't sure just why he was suddenly feeling like he was missing having company – he'd never been one to have lovers spend the night anyway. In fact, he'd not once had anyone back to this flat; not in the four years that he'd lived here. He'd tended to rid his sexual frustrations in the back rooms of clubs, thus endowing them with the lack of respect that he felt for himself in needing to relieve them at all. There was still part of him that thought that sex should be between people who cared about each other.

Annoyed with himself, he stood and walked through to the bathroom, lifting the lid on the toilet to urinate. Not having to wait for the bathroom was another good thing about waking up alone, he thought as the pressure in his bladder was relieved. See? There must be a hundred reasons why it was so much better to wake alone.

He flushed the toilet then turned on the taps in the shower. No running out of hot water, either. He grinned and stepped into the steamy warmth.

Unfortunately, the heat of the water against his cool skin aroused him. Damn, this was where it would be good to have a partner, lover, or boyfriend, even. He frowned and looked down at himself, cursing the appendage that seemed to take on a life of it's own at times. He'd thought he was supposed to grow out of that adolescent lack of control. Grudgingly, he wrapped his hand around it and closed his eyes, stroking as quickly and as business-like as he could.

A few minutes later, he stepped from the shower, relaxed from the quick wank. When was the last time he'd done that anyway? He sure hadn't lasted very long, which only made him feel like he was a horny teenager again.

In the kitchen he made toast and coffee and sat down at the table in the kitchen to eat. An owl had delivered his newspaper and it was waiting for him on the table, so he settled to read the paper while he ate.

After a while he registered that all he could hear was the humming of the fridge across the room. He put down his newspaper and coffee cup and looked around feeling the silence and the emptiness of the flat expand around him until it felt like it was crushing him. The humming became louder until it sounded like it was singing inside his head rather than outside it and he found himself holding his breath as if the noise of his breathing would also grow to be so overpowering he'd lose his mind. He'd never really noticed the quiet before; always been happy with his own company, but perhaps he'd never experienced it quite this way before. Thank Merlin he didn't have a clock. If he heard time ticking away in this atmosphere, he might scream just to hear a real noise.

He was being ridiculous, he told himself as he shook out the newspaper then dropped it on the table, the crackle placating his senses. All he needed was a radio. He wasn't lonely and he didn't want anyone to share his life.

Bollocks! Who was he trying to kid?

He still had no direction, no idea what he wanted to do with his time other than love his friends. Whilst that was fulfilling in itself, there was something missing and it seemed like the only thing his subconscious was telling him, was that he didn't want to spend the rest of his time alone. The insurmountable mountain of dating – finding someone to date in the first place – and then falling for him weighed heavily on Harry.

He wanted to, he really did. The desire not to be alone sat like an ache in his chest, the battle of the guilt attached to any liaison he might have, warring with the need to belong to something. Not someone, but something. He'd like to belong to a couple.

Maybe something without too much emotional attachment? Like Draco had said, something not serious, something that would give him that feeling of not being alone, of being part of something, of companionship. With the added benefit of sex.

He'd have to think about it, he decided, sighing and realising that he'd been tapping the table with his fingers, probably just to hear a noise. Frustrated, he picked up the newspaper and went back to reading.

* * *

"Harry, if you or _him_…" Michael Corner indicated Draco with a disgusted look, "play Seeker, the game will be over before we know it."

"So, what do you suggest this time?" Harry replied bristling, not at the suggestion that he not play Seeker, but at the look Corner had given Draco. It was old news as Draco said, but it still annoyed him nonetheless.

He gave Draco a glance and saw his clenched jaw; he was clearly restraining himself from making a cutting remark. He wouldn't though; they were here to play Quidditch and Draco had grown up and knew when to shut his mouth. It was always the same three that caused most of the problems. Corner, Smith and Finch-Fletchley. A couple of the younger men were swayed by their dislike of Draco as well, but they pretty much kept that to themselves.

He looked forward to these games, though they didn't happen that often and Draco only joined in occasionally, when he wasn't too busy with work. Generally, they had enough for two teams with himself, Ron, Draco, Blaise, Seamus, Alicia and George. Sometimes Neville would come along, but he always said he felt much more at home when his feet were still touching his beloved earth. They usually made a team against Smith, Corner, Finch-Fletchley, the two younger kids, whose names Harry could never remember, and Angelina and Cho.

"Find another Seeker," Corner sneered. Harry had never liked Michael Corner. Not since he'd been such an arse back in school over Ginny.

"Fine," Harry said, looking at Draco. "How about you and I play Beaters, Draco?" Harry grinned. "Ron can be Keeper, Blaise, you can play Seeker and Seamus, George and Alicia can be Chasers. Any problems with that?"

No one appeared to have any complaints and Draco's eyes had that look of being challenged in them. Ron seemed keen to get up and on the broom, too. "Come on, guys, if we win I'm buying drinks later," he yelled in uncharacteristic generosity.

"Any bribing of the umpire should consist of at least four shots of Firewhiskey and safe conduct home," Ginny called out. She came along to umpire the games when she could, but didn't play because it was the general consensus that as a professional player she had an unfair advantage.

Ron laughed and called back. "Blaise better not see you home, then. Can't call that safe conduct."

There was laughter amongst them and Blaise sniffed haughtily. "I'll have you know, our conduct is very safe." But he was grinning as he headed up above the pitch awaiting the release of the Snitch.

"Yeah," added Ginny, laughing. "You'll notice there are no little Zabinis running around the place."

"Too much information," screeched Ron, covering his ears as he floated near the goals.

George flew over to him. "Grow up, little brother, our wee Ginny is a married lady and as such we know she has to have sex, loathe as we are to admit that she is a grown woman and not our baby sister."

"All right you lot, you've given me nightmare material for a week now with all this talk of Weasley mating habits," Draco grimaced, though none of them took him seriously. "Let's get this game going or Weasley here will be shouting dinner not drinks and I don't think the moths in his wallet would survive."

With Ron spluttering that he wasn't skint, nor was he miserly he was just saving for his wedding, Ginny released the Snitch and the game was on.

Harry and Draco teamed up well when they stopped laughing over Ron's indignation. The game was shaping up to be a bit of a dirty one, though, for as much as Draco was competent at hitting the Bludger towards the other side's Seeker or Chasers, their Beaters were aiming the Bludgers directly at Draco, and Harry spent most of his time defending him.

It did, however, leave Blaise virtually unrestricted in looking for the Snitch and the Chasers had almost free reign in scoring, which they did easily. Soon the score was 90 – 20, and Harry was becoming annoyed by the behaviour of the other team.

He looked across at Ginny and yelled, "Can't you do something?" But she just shook her head and yelled back that they weren't doing anything against the rules.

Harry looked wildly round for Blaise and saw that he was chasing the Snitch. Relieved, he turned back to Draco, only to see both Bludgers heading towards the blond. There was only time to take out one of them.

"Draco, duck!" he yelled, and whacked the closest one to him. Draco didn't hear him in time, though, and the other Bludger crashed into his shoulder with enough force to push his broom off its flight path, unbalancing him.

Harry tried to turn his broom around to catch Draco and steady him but with a sickening feeling he knew he'd be too late. Instead, he pointed his broom toward the ground and urged it forward, hoping to catch Draco as he fell.

Faster and faster he flew. With barely any time to spare, he hooked Draco out of the air and onto his broom, hoping he could steady himself while he madly tried to pull up out of the dive before they crashed into the ground. It almost worked.

The grass of the pitch loomed up too close; Harry knew it was too close, but at this point there was nothing he could do. He vaguely heard someone behind him calling out something and then they hit the ground. He was expecting it to hurt, hanging on tightly to Draco as he was, but it didn't. One of the others had cushioned the ground to break their fall and so they mostly tumbled over a few times, getting tangled in each other's limbs, until they finally came to rest, Draco lying on top of Harry.

"You all right?" Harry asked, chest heaving with adrenaline and exertion.

"I will be when I hex that fucking Smith from here to Mexico," Draco muttered, not moving. "You make a good soft landing, though. Thanks, Harry." Draco tried to smile but the pain lines in his face made smiling difficult.

"Glad to be of service," Harry gasped, still out of breath and Draco's weight on top of him making inhaling more difficult than it should be. "Do you think you could get off me now? I can fix that shoulder."

"Er – right," Draco grimaced. "Sorry." He rolled off Harry just as the others landed around them and both angry and concerned voices mixed, competing to see if Draco was all right or berate Smith and Corner, who at least had the grace to look worried.

Harry ignored them, helping Draco free his shoulder from his robes and shirt. Feeling the reddened lump made Draco wince a little but Harry didn't think anything was broken, just badly bruised, so he performed a couple of simple healing charms that should help with the bruising and the pain, before rounding on Smith and Corner.

"Just what was that all about? It's supposed to be a friendly game, you arse, not a bloody chance to take your frustrations out on Draco."

Smith, who had been looking ashamed, narrowed his eyes at the attack. "It was only supposed to be a bit of fun. He wasn't supposed to get hit and fall off, but if he can't keep his seat on a broom then perhaps he shouldn't play." He ended this speech with a smug smile on his face that Harry wanted to punch away. And he would have, too, but Draco held him back.

"Not worth it, Potter." Draco turned to Smith and Corner. "All in good fun, right, guys? It was just an accident, not as if you _meant_ for me to fall off my broom, did you?" Harry could see the dangerous glint in Draco's eyes and he smiled because it usually meant that at some point, when Smith and Corner least expected it, the sneaky ex-Slytherin would use his cunning and both of them would pay.

"Of course not, Malfoy," Corner snickered, thinking he was off the hook.

Ron glowered at both Smith and Corner. "You idiots should just grow up," he said.

"Oh, I don't know, Weasley," Draco replied, smirking. "Have a look in Blaise's hand. Their childish pranks seem to have lost them the game."

Sure enough when they all turned to look at a very smug Blaise, the Golden Snitch was fluttering weakly in his hand. "Sorry, boys, should have mentioned it earlier, but you were all having so much fun arguing I didn't like to interrupt."

George and Ron whooped and lifted Blaise onto their shoulders and the rest of the team gathered around and walked off the field, leaving Corner and his cronies there to commiserate, though Cho and Angelina whacked Corner and Smith on the shoulder and followed after Harry's team.

Draco elbowed Harry as they were all walking off. "You don't need to fight my battles for me, Potter," he hissed, glaring at Harry. "I'm quite capable of looking after myself."

"What?" Harry replied, perplexed. "I know you are, I wasn't…" He sighed. "I'm sorry, I guess it was just a natural reaction."

"Well, next time, don't bother. I don't need you to do your fucking hero thing for me," Draco said roughly, and moved to walk with Blaise.

Harry frowned. He knew Draco was very independent but that reaction was a bit extreme, surely? Looking around he was relieved to see that no one seemed to have overheard; there was no need to spoil the celebrations. He'd just steer clear of Draco while they were all at the pub and hope that he got over it, whatever it was.

When they reached the pub, Ron headed to the bar to order drinks for everyone and the rest of them found a large table and sat down. Ginny plonked herself down on her husband's lap and Angelina snuggled up close to George, which made Harry smile. It was about time those two settled down.

Ron arrived with a tray of glasses and a couple of jugs of Butterbeer and proceeded to pour them all drinks. "Cheers," he said, holding up his glass.

They all chorused "Cheers" in response and drank. Then George stood and raised his glass. "To the third best Seeker at this table. Blaise!"

Laughing, they all raised glasses to Blaise and drank. Then Blaise stood and raised his glass. "To Harry for the best catch of the day," and they all laughed and drank again.

Harry stood, getting into the swing of things and wondering if they'd make it all the way around the table. "To whoever it was that cushioned the ground for us."

"That would be me," Ginny squeaked, and grinned as they all drank to her. Harry blew her a kiss and mouthed "Thank you." She just nodded and then raised her own glass.

"To Draco for displaying the coolest temper in the face of utter stupidity that I have seen in a long time."

Draco gave her a wan grin as they all drank and then stood, a smirk on his face. "I'm sure I should be raising a glass to Potter here, not only for defending me all through the game but for catching me when I fell. What a gentleman. However, he gets enough adulation, so if it's all the same to you lot, I'd like to raise a toast to Weasley here for buying the drinks."

As they all laughed and drank, Harry was sure he heard Draco say, "It's more than I could do," but he wasn't sure.

After the toasting was done, and they all settled back to chat and catch up with each other, talk turned to work and Harry found himself listening to a conversation between Draco and Blaise that he wasn't sure he should be listening to. Their voices were lowered but they weren't whispering so Harry assumed that what they were discussing wasn't a secret. Thus he listened unashamedly.

"I'd love to come for dinner later, but I'll probably have to work," Draco said.

"You need a break, Draco," Blaise said, concerned.

"I've had a break. Playing Quidditch today was a break. Potter's party Friday night was a break."

"Yes, but when was the last time you took a proper break, not just a few hours off in the evening?"

Harry knew Draco had spent the day at his place yesterday, but apart from that Blaise might be right, Draco did seem to work most of the time.

"Look, I'm fine, Blaise. If I don't work, I don't get paid and then I can't pay my rent and then what will happen to me?"

"You have friends, Draco, friends who will always help you out and you know it. You have to let us occasionally, though."

"I don't want anyone's help," Draco insisted. "I won't be a charity case."

"It's not charity. You'd do the same if you could help any one of us, wouldn't you?"

Draco nodded. "Of course I would."

"Then why won't you let us help you?"

Draco's voice lowered to a whisper. Harry could barely hear it. "Because I don't deserve help."

"Cut the crap, Draco. You deserve it as much as any of us. You're just a stubborn fool letting his pride get in the way of making things just a little easier. And now this situation with that shop assistant has made it worse, hasn't it?"

Draco nodded, dropping his head.

"Well, what are you going to do? Can you brew another potion?"

"Of course I can, but they got what they needed elsewhere, so they don't need me to replace it, which means I lose the money for it," said Draco. "It was a stupid mistake not telling him to refrigerate it. Now I might lose them entirely and be left to live on the money Hermione pays me."

"Draco, you need to let us help. If not Ginny and me, then someone else. Think of it as a loan if you want. Plenty of people get loans to get them by, it's not charity."

Draco sighed. "I'll think about it, all right. But I still have a few irons in the fire, so I might be able to manage."

Ginny interrupted them by putting her arm on Draco's and smiling at him. "You've come a long way since school and you have many friends who would be only too happy to help, Draco. Don't forget that."

Draco's story had taken the edge off Harry's celebrations even further. No wonder he was so angry with Harry earlier. He was feeling like he'd lost control of his financial situation and being seen as able to defend himself was a way to keep some form of self esteem.

Harry fully understood Draco's need for independence and not wanting to accept handouts or charity. He did need help, though, and Harry wished there was a way he could help Draco out without it seeming like charity. Perhaps he had found his first mission in his search for ways to make his friends happy.

Seamus had said the other night that Draco should start his own Apothecary. It would be a perfect solution and Harry was sure there'd be a suitable shop available in Diagon Alley.

He knew Draco had excellent skills in potion making, having a success rate of 97 percent, which meant that he only ever got the most difficult potions wrong 3 percent of the time. Even the potion makers at St. Mungo's only rated 83 percent. Neville, he knew, was on the verge of completing his research into a new potion that prevented stomach ulcers and would be looking for someone to produce the potions for general use. And maybe he could owl and ask Madam Pomfrey if she could see her way clear to use Draco exclusively to supply the school infirmary with all of its problematical potions; the difficult to brew or hard to obtain ones. He wondered why he hadn't thought of that before. And then, if Draco could keep his current clients, there'd be walk in customers into the shop, too, so he might make a go of it once his expertise became better known. Enthusiasm for the idea cheered him immensely.

There really only remained for Harry to find out how to offer this to Draco without him being offended or refusing.

* * *

A couple of hours later he returned home, opening the door to his silent flat. He sighed and tossed his jacket on the table, kicked his shoes off and crashed on the couch. Quidditch had been great fun and a few drinks with his mates afterwards had been great, too, but coming home to nothing and silence and…to being alone…sucked to put it bluntly.

There was an answer there if he wanted to put two and two together, he knew, but it reeked of looking like he'd be paying Draco for sexual favours and that was a bit of an insult, so he refused to even look at it.

Besides, who knew if Draco even found him attractive. Or if he'd entertain a relationship with him for that length of time. Or…anything…No it was too preposterous.

Wouldn't work.

It would solve his own problem of companionship and a relationship with Draco did seem appealing; hell, they'd even talked about it before.

No. They were friends and he would find another way to help Draco. He didn't want to risk their friendship.

How would he do it anyway? Oh, Draco, how about moving in with me for a year, and having a relationship with me? Why? …er…to prove Hermione wrong, maybe?

Great.

_I want to prove Hermione wrong, so move in with me and be my lover for a year and I will set you up in your own shop. When the year is up I'll give you the deeds to the property and it will be all yours. Of course I can't tell you the real reason is that I'm dying and I don't want to spend my last year alone and I want to take some steps to ensure that my friends have good memories of me after I'm gone. Do you think you could handle that? Seeing as we're friends and you don't believe in messy emotional relationships there's no chance of you falling in love with me and so you won't be any more hurt than you would losing a friend. Right? And it won't matter if I fall in love with you, because…because I'll be gone soon enough without you ever knowing. _

Harry sighed. Not in a million years.

It was ridiculous.

Draco really needed help, though.

Did he even find Draco sexually attractive?

Oh yes. That was pretty much a given.

Using Hermione was a pretty weak excuse.

Unless…

Unless he actually got Hermione to issue him a challenge. A bet. Find something Hermione really needed and offer it as a prize if she won.

He actually had the perfect thing. Dumbledore's books.

When Dumbledore died, he'd left most of his estate to Harry, who'd always felt that Dumbledore's collection of artefacts should stay together. Harry had already planned to have it written in his will, when he made one, that Hermione should get them as it was a renowned collection that rivalled any private collection in the Wizarding World.

But Draco liked Hermione – he'd want her to get the books, so wouldn't he be likely to sabotage the bet?

Harry sighed. This wasn't going well. At all. And he could hardly believe he was thinking this through as if it were feasible. Honestly.

Unless…he…yes he could give the books to Hermione anyway. Tell Draco that if he won the bet, then he'd give the books to Hermione anyway. And what did he stand to win from Hermione? The satisfaction of Hermione being wrong about something. For once.

It all sounded so business-like, so…Slytherin actually. Scheming and manipulating to get what he wanted. He supposed occasionally that side did come out in him and, he further supposed, that seeing as he only had a year or so left, it was all right to be selfish at times.

A bet, then.


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Not Mine

* * *

Author's Notes: I never know what to say in these things half the time, lol. Just, thank you all so much for the lovely reviews, I really appreciate each one. Keep 'em coming. ;p lol. 

And enjoy this chapter

jamie

xxx

* * *

_Some prices are just too high,  
no matter how much you may want the prize.  
The one thing you can't trade for your heart's desire is your heart._

_ATTRIBUTION: Lois McMaster Bujold, "Memory", 1996,  
US science fiction author._

Lunch with Hermione on a Tuesday was a semi-regular occurrence that Harry enjoyed thoroughly. Sometimes they ate at the Library, with Harry bringing food suitable to eat in, but recently they'd taken to heading to the local pub for lunch, which was where they were today. Harry had spent most of the previous day on his own, thinking about his plan. It was funny in a way, the more he thought about helping Draco out, the more he wanted the man in his life and in his bed and, if things had been different about his health, then he might seriously have considered going after him, anyway.

Hermione had always said he had a bit of an obsessive personality and now he seemed to be fixated on Draco. Again. So maybe he'd always just been obsessive about Draco? That was a possibility that not so much frightened him as made him laugh. It would certainly explain a few things.

Harry smiled at Hermione as she entered the pub, her brown hair tied back in the summer heat and her eyes flashing amusement when she saw him.

"Harry! Hello," she said as she kissed him on the cheek and sat down.

"Hermione, why do you look so amused?"

"I've just seen that prat Michael Corner trying, unsuccessfully I might add, to control his children. He's just ended up with Fortescue's ice cream all over his robes, which caused the little one to start screaming for more, and I thought, 'what goes around comes around'. Couldn't have happened to a nicer bloke," Hermione finished, laughing, and Harry joined in.

"Poetic justice. I gather Ron told you what happened at the scratch Quidditch match on Sunday, then?" He handed her the menu as he spoke.

"Yeah, he did. I'm glad no one was seriously hurt. Draco's all right?" She checked out the menu and chose a cold chicken salad.

Harry chose the same and handed the menus to the waiter before answering her question. "Yes, he's fine. He'd be better if he could find more work, though, but there's too many like Corner and his lot around that just won't see past the name."

"I'm trying to get the committee to agree to fund more days, but I'm not making much headway. They think that repairs and maintenance of the books we already have is more important than cataloguing the Malfoy collection. I can't blame them; we do have to protect the older books."

"I know. Don't blame yourself. Five years ago, you'd have hardly looked at him sideways yourself. You've – we've all grown up and come a long way since then. Most of us have. Some people never let go of the past."

Their meals arrived and Harry ordered two glasses of pumpkin juice to have while they ate.

"So, tell me how the wedding plans are coming along," Harry said, wanting to change the subject.

Hermione predictably brightened. "Wonderfully. Molly finally relented about doing all the cooking. I am so relieved. Not that Molly isn't a great cook, she is, but we had our heart set on spoiling her that day, too. It's about time and Ron and I earn enough to have the wedding catered for professionally and as we only plan on getting married once, we're going to splurge and put the purchase of the house off for six months or so."

"I wish she'd take it easy, too, but you know how she is. Like a steamroller; refuses to slow down. Sometimes I think if she slowed down her body would just stop." He'd meant it to be lighthearted but it hurt to think of Molly not being there. Just as it hurt to think of death at all these days.

"She's got Bill's kids to chase after, seeing that he's away with Gringott's often and Fleur went back to work," Hermione reminded him, breaking his mood.

"I suppose those two would be enough to keep anyone busy. Speaking of keeping busy, I've decided that I'm going to write that book on my life after all," Harry said, suddenly making the decision right there on the spot. Who said he could never be spontaneous?

"Oh, Harry," Hermione exclaimed, eyes shining brightly at him. "I'm so pleased. What made you change your mind?"

"You. You've been after me for years to do it, and I decided that you're right. When I go…eventually, I don't want someone anonymous writing about my life as if they knew me or understood my motivations. If I do it now, while I'm deciding what to do with my life, then that will be the definitive story. No one will be able to write anything different and expect to have it believed. I don't want people's memories of me to be a pack of half truths and exaggerated claims."

"I'm really proud of you, Harry," Hermione beamed, putting down her fork to pat his arm. "So, for inspiring you, will the Library get the first edition autographed copy?" she asked, giving him a playful smile.

"Of course," Harry replied, and filled his mouth with chicken and salad.

"Have you thought about what you're going to do with your life?"

"Not really. It's only been a few months since I quit being an Auror. You know I'd wanted to be one as far back as fifth year at school. I'd not really thought about doing anything else."

"Hm, Ron still can't quite believe you're not there anymore. We'll be talking about a case and he'll say, 'Oh, I must tell Harry about that,' before he remembers that you're not there," Hermione relayed, sadly.

"I know. I'm sorry but it was completely unfulfilling and pointless me even being there. All the Death Eaters were rounded up years ago, all the trials have been heard and everyone who was going to Azkaban has gone already, so…I just felt like a damned mascot or something that they dragged out for public display and comment every time one of the new recruits did something stupid."

"So hard being a celebrity," Hermione teased, though Harry knew that she understood how little he liked the limelight, despite using it to his advantage on numerous occasions when he had need of it.

"Hey, you don't like it either," Harry retorted. Hermione was receiving her fair share of publicity for her work with the Library, besides the fact that she was one of Harry's best friends and had played a vital part in helping to win the war.

"No, but I know how important it is to the work I'm doing," she pointed out. "And I'm prepared to use it and put up with the unfortunate side effects if in the long run the Library and the Wizarding World benefit from it."

"And Ron puts up with it too?" Harry laughed. The last time some anxious reporter had implied that Hermione used more than verbal persuasion in order to cajole money from sponsors or books from old families, Ron had charmed the man's quill to write retractions in every article since then until the paper's editor had grown so angry that the man had been banished to the sports page.

Hermione laughed. "I like that he stands up for me, even though I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself. It's nice that he loves me enough to do that. It's good having someone I can rely on like that all the time."

"Don't I do that, too?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Harry, but I don't want to sleep with you or spend my life with you. It's just different with a partner – he's like the other half of me. You should find someone for yourself," she finished and took a drink of her juice.

Here was the point where he could manipulate the situation for the bet. He took a deep breath and decided that he I did /I want Draco in his bed and his life for the year and however he got him there wouldn't matter in the end, because he would be helping Draco make a future for himself. He would do his damnedest to make sure that Draco had only good memories of their time together for after he was gone, but that they stayed friends through it all. Guilt he would mark off in days for using Draco like he was, but he hoped that what he was doing would make it up to him…of course that was if Draco agreed to it in the first place.

"Well, you were the one who said I was hopeless at relationships," Harry said.

"You are." Hermione snorted. "You haven't ever had one that lasted past a week, right?"

"True." Harry nodded. "But you're wrong. I could have a relationship and make it work," he said challengingly.

"Work? What do you mean by work? A week, six weeks, three months? What? That's not making it work."

"A year, then," Harry replied. "I could do a year at least. I think I'm ready for something long term."

Hermione gave him a piercing, thoughtful stare. "I don't believe you could. I'm talking a proper live–in relationship here, not just dating, you do realise that?"

"Yes," Harry insisted. "That's what I mean, too. I could live with someone in a romantic relationship for a year."

"Prove it," Hermione said, finishing her drink.

"I will," Harry said, defiant. "And if I do, you have to admit you were wrong. Publicly. And I know how much you'll hate that." Harry grinned, pushing the last of his salad around the plate. "Hermione Granger is never wrong, is she?"

"And what will I get if I'm right?" Hermione asked. "Because I don't like making bets, Harry."

Harry pretended to think for a moment and then smiled. "Dumbledore's books. You've wanted them ever since he left them to me, you can't deny that."

But Hermione looked concerned. "Oh, no, but Harry I couldn't take those," she protested. "This is just a silly little bet and those are worth…well they're priceless artefacts, no, I couldn't possibly…"

Harry interrupted her. "Yes, you can, Hermione. They'll get better treatment with you than they will with me," he pointed out reasonably. "And they'll be willed to the Library when I go anyway. This way you'd get the credit for securing them."

"Well…" Hermione seemed doubtful but Harry could see the light in her eyes. She smiled. "You do realise that I might have to try and break up this relationship that you will be having with whoever it is."

"Oh, no, if you try and break us up, the deal is off," Harry said, laughing.

"All right." She laughed, too. "But you can't wait forever to find someone." She pointed her fork at him. "There has to be a time limit, say three months? You reckon you can find someone in three months?"

"Easy," Harry replied.

..oo00oo..

Step one completed, Harry spared little time examining his motivations. He'd done that and made his decisions already, and any further deliberation would be useless. When he arrived home after lunch, he headed straight for the Floo.

"Ministry Research. Longbottom's office," he called into the Floo and put his head in, waiting for it to be connected. Neville was rising from his desk by the time Harry saw him.

"Harry, how are you? What can I do for you?"

"Good thanks, Neville. I won't hold you up, but I have a couple of questions for you, if that's all right?"

"Sure, Harry. Ask away." Neville smiled, a look of mild surprise on his face.

"How close are you to the release of your ulcer prevention potion?" Harry asked.

Neville blinked in surprise. "A couple of weeks, why?"

"Do you have anyone to produce it, yet?"

"We've looked at Stoker. She's the only one with the skills we'd require in addition to access to the right facilities to produce it on a regular basis in the quantities we'd need. Why?"

"Have you thought about Draco?"

Neville nodded, spreading his arms. "Harry, if Draco was set up officially we'd snap him up in a second. But he just doesn't meet the strict Ministry regulations required for the public production of a new potion."

"But if he was?"

"Then he would certainly get our business. I know the Ministry has frowned upon using ex-death Eaters in the past." Neville held up his hands. "Don't tell me that he wasn't a Death Eater, I know he wasn't, but his father did so much damage that his name is still blackened. However, I know he is the best potions maker in England and I'd insist on the best."

"Thanks, Nev," Harry said, smiling.

"Something you want to tell me, Harry?" Neville asked, giving Harry a calculating look.

Harry shook his head. "No, nothing I can say anything about now, but don't be surprised if I call you again soon and hold you to your word."

"Be about time something good happened to him. I've offered to help him out before and he's always declined the offer. I'll be glad to help out in any way I can but, honestly, if he's set up for this he'll be the one doing me a favour. Stoker's success rate isn't as high as Draco's."

'That's great. Thanks. I'll contact you again, soon as I know anything."

"You're a good friend to have, Harry Potter," Neville said, smiling at him.

Harry smiled back, hoping that he was right. "Thanks, Nev. Say hi to Hannah for me. How's she doing? Getting too big to be comfortable now?"

"I will, and yes, she's complaining that she can't remember what her ankles look like." Neville laughed. "She only has four weeks to go, though. And then there's the number of times I have to help her stand up just so she can--" He stopped. "Too much information, I reckon." He laughed again and blushed.

Harry laughed back. "Well, tell her that I am looking forward to seeing that baby she's carrying."

"I will."

"Thanks again, Nev. Talk to you soon."

"You're welcome, Harry."

Harry removed his head from the fireplace and sat back on his couch with a satisfied smile. Should Draco not be interested in the arrangement he was offering, then he'd still go ahead and do this anyway. Draco was one of his friends and he really did want to help him, regardless of anything else – bet with Hermione be damned. It felt good to be able to do these things for his friends.

He rose and moved to his desk to write an owl to Madam Pomfrey at Hogwarts. While he was there, he thought to write to an Estate Agent and ask them to line up some places that might be suitable for both a shop front and a Potions lab for him to look at on Thursday. Lastly, he wrote to Draco and invited him for dinner tomorrow night. Hopefully, he would be free.

An hour later he had a return owl from Draco accepting his offer of dinner, with the codicil question - _Did you just ask me on a date, Potter? _ - which made Harry laugh at the irony.

He replied - _Why? Did you want me to?_ - not entirely sure that he wanted to know the answer. If he'd said no… Luckily the answer, when it arrived, was suitably cryptic - _There's never been anything wrong with asking. _

Madam Pomfrey replied a few hours later, just as Harry was dishing out his dinner. She was only too happy to use Draco in whatever professional capacity he might be offering. She was getting on in years and her own potion making was reduced to the simpler ones. The school's Potions master was terrific with teaching the children and was adequate for curriculum potions but with anything medicinal and complicated he was fairly useless. She'd been purchasing potions from St. Mungo's for years and she knew that Draco would produce much higher quality potions and thanked Harry for suggesting it.

Harry sat at the table and ate his dinner in the quiet; hating that it felt so lonely, especially when he had such great news he'd like to be able to share with someone. Still, there was an element of satisfaction at having done a good day's work.

There were other things he planned to do for his friends in this year. Things that he wanted nothing in return for; only to see them happy and taken care of. They were his family, and you took care of family, didn't you?

Only from one person was Harry asking something in return and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being selfish. Ignoring his conscience – or pushing it aside at any rate – he pledged that should Draco want nothing to do with him on a romantic level then he would not feel bitter about it. In no way would he bear a grudge over it and he would still do this for Draco, he would make him accept the gift, even if he resented Harry afterwards, because he knew that Draco deserved this chance. He was just hoping that Draco thought the same.

Wednesday was spent making sure the flat was clean and preparing a nice meal for the evening. Harry had decided on a simple steak, jacket potatoes and a fresh salad. He might not be able to cook worth a damn, but he could grill a steak with the best of them. With a nice light wine to accompany it, it would be the perfect summer meal. In fact, he was so intent on preparing the salad that he forgot the time and when he heard the knock on the door, he jumped in surprise, startled into splashing the dressing all over his shirt.

Cursing his inability to be able to keep track of time and his consequent clumsiness, he pulled his shirt off over his head as he headed for the door. Of course, when he opened it he found Draco standing there looking fucking gorgeous in faded blue jeans and a simple white shirt. How the hell he always managed to do that astounded Harry.

"Come in." Harry smiled, all of a sudden flustered at being caught out shirtless. It seemed half dressed was the way he was answering the door to Draco these days.

And naturally Draco stood there, arms folded, smirking at him. "I'm not even inside the door and already you're expecting me to put out?" he drawled, and Harry was very conscious of the way Draco's eyes traveled over his chest. "Or are you going to let me watch you shower this time?" he added, cheekily.

Harry narrowed his eyes, blushing, because if things went according to plan, then there was a good chance he would be doing just that. But, apparently Harry felt the need to reciprocate, so as not to be outdone of course.

Of course.

"Come in here looking like that and I might let you do whatever you want," he said, tempering the flirting by grinning and rolling the shirt up into a ball. He stepped aside and ushered Draco in.

"Promises, promises," Draco pouted and walked in.

"Make yourself at home, I'll just get a clean shirt."

Clean shirt on, he headed back to the lounge room to find Draco had grabbed a couple of beers and was waiting for him.

"How've you been?" Harry asked, grabbing the beer and flopping down in an armchair.

Draco shrugged and looked at his beer, affecting a casual, disinterested attitude. "Same as usual," he said. It seemed obvious that Draco didn't want to talk about how he was, and now he looked closer he could see the worry lines around Draco's eyes. Not that he'd ever mention worry lines to Draco; he liked his bits where they were, thanks very much, and not splattered into next week.

"I spoke to Blaise last night," Draco said, changing the subject, smiling at Harry. "He mentioned that the Harpies are playing a charity game against the Canons to raise money for St. Mungo's. Wanted to know if I wanted to go."

"I know. They sent me a couple of tickets, too. It's in about a month isn't it? We should all go. Have some fun and make a night of it," Harry said.

Draco nodded, thoughtfully. "The Longbottoms might be otherwise occupied but apart from that, it's good idea."

Harry drank some of his beer. "We'll let Blaise organise us all," he grinned. "Makes him feel useful."

Laughing, Draco downed his beer, too. "Speaking of making oneself useful, do you need any help with dinner? I assume you met with some culinary disaster that would account for answering the door half naked," he said, raising his eyebrow.

"Dinner," Harry replied, "is coming along just fine without your assistance. I just need to cook the steaks and finish tossing the salad and we're set to go."

Harry stood and walked through to the kitchen. "You can make yourself useful by opening the wine if you like," he called out over his shoulder.

Draco voiced his assent and Harry threw the steaks onto the grill he'd had heating up. While they sizzled he watched Draco opening the wine and decided that he quite liked Draco's slender, fine wrists. Blinking and snapping himself out of it, he finished tossing the salad, removed the potatoes from the oven, and set the table. While Draco hunted for the wine glasses, Harry turned the steaks and after a couple of minutes more, placed them on plates and moved to join Draco.

Wine glasses filled and a delicious looking dinner in front of them, they raised their glasses.

"To a decent meal and decent company," Draco said, smiling.

Harry inclined his head in agreement. "A decent meal and even more decent company." He attempted to keep the nerves from his voice because the scene of them sitting together at his table in his flat was kind of like a predicator of what he'd like to happen night after night, and he still wasn't certain of just how he was to approach the subject with Draco and how he would take it.

Sometimes his 'by the seat of his pants' attitude worked and sometimes it just left him tense and anxious.

They discussed inconsequential things while they ate; Draco complimenting him on his ability to cook a steak properly and Harry loading up Draco's plate with salad before his own. It was comfortable and relaxed, though Harry teased Draco mercilessly for picking out every single piece of cucumber in the tossed salad. Draco said the mere taste of cucumber made his mouth go dry and he'd rather not waste such a good meal by losing the ability to enjoy it properly. Draco got his revenge though when he called Harry an uncouth troll for using tomato sauce on his steak.

The meal filled Harry with peace, contentment and laughter, which he thought peculiar considering the task he'd set himself tonight. Also considering the question of his mortality. Harry sat with his glass of wine raised to his lips, yet not drinking, just considering Draco across the table, who was regaling him with a tale about how one of Pansy's three year old charges managed to open every single can of paint in the art room store cupboard and spread it round the room in a rainbow of colours without anyone even noticing she was gone. Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so good and he didn't want the evening to end.

Eventually, the meal part of the evening came to an end, though, and Draco took their drinks through to the lounge room while Harry spooned scoops of creamy strawberry ice cream into bowls and decorated them with fresh strawberries. When he handed Draco his dessert and sat down in the armchair opposite him, he knew that when they'd finished he wouldn't be able to put it off any longer.

"Draco," he began as he placed his empty dish on the coffee table a few minutes later. "I didn't mean to, but I overheard your talk with Blaise and Ginny the other night at the pub."

Draco frowned and gave Harry a stare. "And?"

"What happened?"

"Well, it's not really a secret or anything, but the last batch of a potion I made for the Apothecary was ruined because I forgot to tell the assistant to refrigerate it. You'd think that he'd know by now but apparently you have to tell these people something each and every time or else they don't remember and they ruin potions that are someone's livelihood and--" He stopped and looked at Harry, the worry clearly visible, now. He sighed and closed his eyes as if ashamed to admit things weren't all right. "They found another supplier," he said, quietly.

"What will you do now, then?" Harry asked.

Draco sighed again and ran a hand through his hair. "I have no idea. I did try and contact a few people about some work but unless the Ministry certifies my Potions lab they won't even look at buying my potions. And the Ministry won't classify or certify my kitchen, so I guess I am out of luck." He dropped his empty bowl on the table beside Harry's and hung his head in both hands. "I'm sorry, Harry, you didn't ask me here to hear me whining about my hard luck story."

"I did, actually," Harry replied, watching Draco carefully.

Predictably, Draco looked up, confused.

"I have a solution," Harry said. "But you have to hear me out fully before you say anything. Or yell at me."

Draco looked even more confused if that were possible. And doubtful. "All right," he said.

"I have a proposition for you. We're friends aren't we? We've come along way since school and the war and we spend time together and enjoy each other's company, right?"

"Yes, much as I am loath to admit it, I do enjoy your company, Potter, but where is this going?"

Harry leaned forward in his seat. "Well, you see the thing is…I've spoken to Neville and they're going to be ready for production of their new potion in a couple of weeks and he wants to give you the contract. It would be a very lucrative one and could set you up."

"I'd love the chance to do something like that and flattered that they'd want me, but that doesn't solve anything seeing as I don't have a lab."

"I've also spoken to Madam Pomfrey at Hogwarts. She's getting on in years and the school's Potions master is rubbish at complicated healing potions and she wants you to be the exclusive potions supplier to the school." Harry was beginning with the indications of work available because he thought it better to start with what the possibilities were before heading to what they would cost.

Draco's eyes narrowed. "So, you've been telling my sob story to both Longbottom and Pomfrey?"

"No, no, I said nothing about your personal circumstances, though Neville knows a bit anyway, seeing as he's your friend, too. I only asked Pomfrey about the possibility of you supplying the complicated potions; she asked if you'd be interested in the rest. And Neville told me you would have been his first choice. Your talent did that on its own."

Draco breathed a sigh of what looked like relief, but he still looked like he'd been offered the world and had it ripped out from under him. "That still doesn't indicate what you think the solution is. I have no lab, Harry."

"I'd like to set you up in a lab. I've actually organised for us to go and have a look tomorrow at a few places to see if they're suitable." He had to rush the last few words, because Draco shot up out of his chair and was pacing the lounge.

"No, Harry, I can't let you do that. I won't be a charity case, I won't have people pitying me and feeling sorry for me." He shook his head. "Or laugh at my misfortune and sneer because I've needed help from friends. I can't do it, I have some pride."

Harry knew all about pride. It was perhaps the biggest thing preventing him from telling all his friends about his illness. Pride – not wanting his friends to see him as anything less than he was now.

"You won't be a charity case, you'd actually be helping me out," Harry pressed on, blushing. "Because there's something I want you to do for me in return."

"What could I possibly do for you that would warrant a gift of such magnitude, Harry?" Draco was shaking his head, but with a desolate look in his eyes, as if everything he'd ever wanted was in Harry's hands and yet it was just out of his reach.

"This is where the being friends part comes in. And I want your promise that if you say no to this then we'll still be friends – actually, even if you say yes, then we'll be friends first." Harry's heart was beating fast in his chest. He really wanted this. For both sides. Of course, even if Draco said no, he'd give him the shop somehow, but he hoped he'd say yes.

"I think after all we've been through to get to this stage, neither of us would willingly give it up, Harry," Draco looked at him, doubtfully. "What are you saying?"

"I want your help to win a bet with Hermione, actually. If I win, she has to publicly apologise to me and admit she was wrong." A small grin curled the corners of Harry's mouth, because you could count on one hand the number of times Hermione had ever admitted she was wrong and there were even less times when she'd made a public apology. Not even when a new assistant set fire to a first edition _Monsters and Madness_ two years ago that had belonged to the Minister for Magic and the press had been howling for an apology.

"And what if you lose?"

"She wins my collection of Dumbledore's books now instead of when I die. But to keep you from sabotaging my bet, I am going to give them to her anyway once the bet is over. I think she'll take better care of them than I do at the moment."

"And what is this bet and what is my part in it?" Draco asked, interested now, perhaps a little more hopeful. Maybe thinking that someone else was also going to benefit from this made it seem less like taking charity for Draco – hmmm, he'd not thought of that angle. His chances were looking up it seemed, and so it was with a little more confidence that he answered.

"The bet is that I can't have a relationship for at least a year. So, I'm asking you to move in and be my…boyfriend, partner, lover, whatever, for a year."

Draco's eyes went wide and he drew in a deep breath. Harry continued. "I mean most people sort of expect it anyway, we've even talked about it ourselves. I think you're gorgeous and I know you don't think I look like a troll, so--"

He stopped there because Draco was pacing again and he waited for some reaction. Draco was tight-lipped and his eyes were dark. "You want to pay me to fuck me for a year, is that it?"

Harry's mouth dropped open. "No…it's not like that. I mean I would like to f… I want us to have a normal relationship, like a normal couple do. We've talked about this and in the past basically we'd said no because people expected us to get together and we didn't want to risk our friendship. I thought… Is it that awful to think of being in a relationship with me?"

"Fuck… No, Harry, it's not, but…it feels like you're handing me everything I could possibly want on a platter, the only thing is, I have to sell my body to get it."

"We can take that part slowly, if you like," Harry said. "I chose you because we are good friends and we'd not likely fall in love with each other, but we're obviously attracted to each other. At the end of a year, I'll hand you the deeds to the shop and it will be all yours and you'd be free to go. Friends first, remember?"

"And what happens if it doesn't last a year?" Draco said, his grey eyes anxious.

"We'll work something out, I promise."

Draco sat down and rested his head in his hands. Harry didn't interrupt his thinking, simply sat and watched him. After a long while, Draco looked up and smirked lightly. "You really want in my pants that badly, Potter?"

"I really want to see Hermione admit she was wrong that badly," Harry replied, attempting a smile which, considering the atmosphere, wasn't too bad an attempt, actually. "Getting you into my bed is an added benefit, though, a really enticing benefit. And, I also really do want to help you out, Draco."

Draco looked down again with a sigh.

"Can I ask what you're thinking?" Harry asked tentatively after a few minutes.

Draco sat back, looked at Harry for a few moments and then looked away.

"Do you want to know why I've worked so hard to make it on my own?" he said. Harry nodded, though as Draco was looking up at a picture of the beach on the wall, he doubted Draco realised it. "Because it was me," he continued. "If I found friends, then it was because they liked me. Not my father's money or my name, but me." He looked hard at Harry now. "We've talked before about how our pasts defined how people saw us. Having to start again from nothing meant that whatever I made of myself it was despite my name and circumstances. I really like the person I've become, and despite the fact that my father would quite possibly have a heart attack and die were he to know, I love the friends I've made. If I were to accept your offer, it would be risking everything. Your friendship for one. You and Blaise and Ginny and the others are my family now and I can't put that at risk. I just can't," he finished, and Harry could see the haunted look on his face, seeing how much he wanted, needed to take Harry's offer, but standing by his principles.

Harry's respect for the way Draco had finally grown up increased a hundredfold. He was just about to tell Draco that he respected his decision, when Draco groaned and flopped back in his chair. "If my ancestors could hear me now, they'd be rolling in their graves. Whoever heard of a Malfoy putting friends above business?" He gave a wry grin and stood up. "I think I should be going now, Harry."

"You sure? I mean…about everything?"

Draco nodded. "I really value our friendship too much to put that sort of strain on it. Likely we'd be fine and come through it closer friends than now, but what if we don't? That sort of risk is just too much and nothing's changed since the last time we spoke about being more than friends."

Harry nodded, saddened, but respectful. He really had half expected this to happen in any case. "What will you do about work, then?" Harry asked, worried about what Draco was going to do.

"I don't know, Harry, I'll find something. I can always work in a shop." Draco smiled.

Harry held out his arms and hugged Draco close, whispering. "I wish things were different Draco, I worry about you. I wish you'd accept the shop anyway."

"Well, you know I won't," Draco replied, hanging on to Harry tightly for a few more moments before pulling away, hands resting on Harry's upper arms. "I do appreciate the offer, Harry, and to tell you the truth, if I didn't like you so much, I'd probably take you up on it."

Harry smiled. "Damn, then maybe I should be horrible to you," he joked. "I'll find someone else to help me with this bet for Hermione. Though it hardly seems worth it if I'm going to give her the books anyway." Harry sighed. "You were the only one I thought this would work with," he admitted.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Draco said. He leant in and kissed Harry very gently on the lips. "Friends, remember?" He looked almost worried as if all of a sudden things between them would change now that he'd knocked Harry back.

Harry rushed to reassure him. "Of course. Always," he smiled. "I'll be seeing you at Neville's party at the weekend?" he asked, stepping back and out of Draco's embrace, missing the contact as soon as it was gone.

Draco nodded. "Looking forward to it. Hogwarts seems a fitting place for Longbottom to have his function. That's if Hannah doesn't go into early labour. Then we might all be celebrating his birthday in the hospital."

"Don't say that! You'll make it happen." Harry whacked him playfully on the arm.

"Bully," Draco grouched and rubbed his arm. "You'd make a rotten boyfriend, abusing me like that." He pouted, but there was a gleam in his eye that said he was teasing. It was good to see that they could laugh about it. It meant that their friendship was solid and was not going to be affected by all this. "Anyway, Harry, thank you for dinner and…everything," Draco went on.

Right, Harry thought, here is where it becomes awkward. He just shook his head and pulled Draco back into a hug, a sudden wave of emotion hitting him and making his throat hurt. "It's fine," he said, quietly. "Don't think about it, and take care, all right?"

"I always do, Harry," Draco drawled, moving out of the hug and heading to the door.

As he opened it, he turned back to look at Harry for a moment and opened his mouth as if to say something, but changed his mind and instead just gave Harry a small wave. Then he turned and left, shutting the door behind him.

Harry sank to the couch and hung his head in his hands, fighting the rising tears. It was ridiculous. He'd promised himself no regrets, no resentment over this. Well, fine, Draco didn't want to be anything more than friends. And it didn't hurt, not really. It was fine. Really.

No, it was not fine and he was going to take a minute, just a minute, to mourn that before he moved on.

After a minute he sighed and wiped his eyes. Okay, so he didn't get what he wanted, but he would still go to the agent's tomorrow to see the shops. He would choose one, then tell Draco he could have it rent free for six months while he set himself up and make him take a loan for set up supplies. That gave him the chance to become established; get those contracts his own skills had earned him and give him a steady income. And he would send those books to Hermione tomorrow. He really had no desire to start from scratch with someone new; someone he didn't know and would have to spend months getting to know and who might turn out to be a jerk, so he would forfeit the bet. He'd have to accept that romantically things were not going to happen for him. He had his friends and that would be enough. It would be.

It was cold comfort as he slipped into bed that night, alone. Again.


	6. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Not Mine.

* * *

Authors Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I really appreciate every single one and hope that you're enjoying Harry's journey with me. 

jamie

xxx

* * *

_Man finds nothing so intolerable as to be in a state of complete rest,  
without passions, without occupation,  
without diversion, without effort.  
Then he feels his nullity, loneliness, inadequacy,  
dependence, helplessness, emptiness. _

_ATTRIBUTION:__Blaise Pascal (1623–1662), French scientist, philosopher.  
Pensées, no. 622 ed. Krailsheimer, no. 131 ed. Brunschvicg (1670)._

When he arrived at the first property he was to inspect, he thought that he'd stepped into a hidden side alley of Knockturn Alley. It was quiet and dark, the cobblestone street echoing his steps as he headed to the dingy shop front and saw the agent waiting for him.

Right away he knew this was not a suitable place for Draco's shop. Visiting an apothecary wasn't fun at the best of times; often people had reactions to the miasma of aromas that went along with the profession. Having a shop in this back alley wouldn't engender any passing trade and Harry thought that Draco might need some passing trade to help survive.

"Hello. Rosemary, I presume?" Harry smiled as he approached the middle-aged woman waiting by the front door. She nodded and smiled back, professionally.

"Mr. Potter. It's an honour, sir. We actually met once before at a Ministry function when you made that charitable donation of your Godfather's house to the city orphanage. I was on the auction team that sold it for you."

Harry had no recollection of ever having met this woman before and he felt bad about not remembering, so he smiled and nodded. "Of course. How are you?"

"Well, thank you, sir," she replied, blushing pink.

"I have to say," Harry said, getting straight to business in the hope that she wouldn't mention anything else and expose the white lie. "This building doesn't suit my purpose. I'd have thought only one street back from Diagon Alley that it would be a lot more like the shops there. Do you have anything that's a bit less…sinister looking?"

Rosemary blinked and looked at the shop, frowning. "All it really needs is a good clean out, bit of sprucing up and the customers would come back here," she said, preparing to launch into her spiel, Harry was sure.

"Thanks but no thanks, I'd rather see something else,' he said firmly. "If you don't have anything suitable then I'll be happy to go elsewhere."

Rosemary looked horrified. "No!" she exclaimed loudly. "Er…no, that will not be necessary. There is one shop. It's right on Diagon Alley, two doors down from Ollivanders. I hesitated to mention that one because it is quite a bit more expensive than this place and I wasn't sure of what monetary limitations you'd set."

"Right on Diagon Alley? Sounds perfect," Harry said, smiling. "Let's go and have a look at it, shall we?"

"Of course," she said. "Follow me."

Harry did as he was bid and followed Rosemary back out into Diagon Alley and along the road past Ollivanders to a petite shop with clean windows and a polished brass knob on the front door. It was just as neat and clean on the inside and had a long room out the back that could be used as a Potions lab.

"Something of this quality doesn't come up in Diagon Alley very often. Since the war, these types of shop fronts have been very much in demand, which obviously makes it more expensive," Rosemary explained.

Harry had to smile to himself at the way people set their time line to 'before' or 'after' the war. They used the war as a reference to almost everything, but that didn't detract from the truth of her statements. At least they sounded logical.

And this shop was perfect. The actual shop space was decked out with spacious shelves of a dark timber that would hold all Draco's potions. The fittings appeared to be of excellent quality and remarkably well kept.

"It's perfect." Harry smiled at her. "Exactly what I was looking for. Will you have the papers drawn up for me and sent over for me to sign?"

"Mr. Potter, you haven't heard the price yet," she replied, shocked.

"I don't need to. This place is perfect and I'm prepared to pay what ever it costs."

Harry thought Rosemary looked like she'd just made her years salary in one commission. She smiled at Harry like he was the sun while they agreed on a price and he gave her his address so she knew where to send the paperwork.

They shook hands on the deal. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Potter," Rosemary said effusively as they said goodbye, Harry most satisfied with his mornings work.

His next stop was Gringotts and the vault that held all Dumbledore's personal effects. It was hard coming back here because seeing many of the items bought back memories of the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts. What use half of the things had was still beyond his comprehension but he'd wanted to have all his mentor's belongings in one place for some reason, instead of scattered over numerous places.

He'd had the book collection carefully crated by professionals after finding out he'd been bequeathed them. Now he and the Gringotts representative located them amongst the shelves of objects and trunks that held more personal items. Harry arranged to have them delivered to his flat, where he'd go through them and make sure there was nothing he wanted to keep for himself…Well that was rather ridiculous wasn't it? Why on earth would he wanting to keep books for himself? It wasn't as if he could take them with him.

Which prompted him to think that maybe he should make a will. No, not yet, he decided. It would make it too final, too real, if he were to make a will. It would also mean he accepted what was happening to him, and while on an intellectual level he knew what was happening and what was going to happen, emotionally, it really hadn't hit him yet. The reasons for which may stem from the fact that he'd been faced with death for most of his life and it hadn't managed to catch up with him, so far.

He amended his request to the goblin, and had the books sent to Hermione directly, instead. He thought he might stop in to see her and explain why he was conceding.

She was happy to see him, if a little confused. The books, which arrived while he was there, actually had her speechless and Harry had to laugh and wonder why he'd not thought of that before during one of the countless times Hermione had lectured him about something.

"Harry, these weren't going to be mine until I won the bet," she said.

"Let's just say that you're right and I am not cut out for relationships other than friendship," he replied, endeavoring to keep the resentment out of his voice. He must have succeeded, because Hermione didn't push all that much.

"But there's still plenty of time," she protested, weakly.

Harry thought she was too taken with the book collection to pay too much attention to what he was saying. In fact he tried it out.

"Well, Draco said no to me and I just can't see myself with anyone else," Harry said. Which was actually true, from a different perspective. He was watching for Hermione's reaction but all she did was nod and keep reading the bindings on all the novels, murmuring, "If you're sure."

"Yes, I am sure. You'll look after them better than I ever could," he said, smiling at her. "So, I'll just go now and let you get on with it, all right?"

Hermione looked up at him and returned his smile. She kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Harry. This is going to make such a difference."

"You're welcome," Harry said. "I'll see you at Neville's?"

"Of course, see you then."

As Harry opened the door, Hermione called out softly to him, "Draco is a fool, Harry," with a positively smug smile on her face.

.o0o.

Later at home, the papers for the property arrived and Harry spent a couple of hours going over all the fine print. Uncle Vernon hadn't been good for much as far as Harry was concerned, but he did remember him always yelling that if people didn't read the fine print themselves, then they deserved to get taken for a ride.

When everything appeared to be in order, Harry signed the papers, signed the withdrawal slip on his Gringotts account and sent them off via his owl Wulfric, feeling curiously proud of himself. He was now the owner of a decent shop in Diagon Alley. Apart from this flat he'd never made a large purchase before. It felt good and it felt even better knowing that eventually Draco was going to be the owner.

The happy, accomplished mood carried him through until dinner time, when he felt the walls start closing in on him again and silence rang loudly in his ears.

This was stupid, he told himself. Here he was, young and rich and he was sitting at home bored out of his skull because he had nothing to do. He could see himself sitting here night after night until the thing in his head decided that he'd bored everyone long enough and put him out of his misery. What a pathetic existence. He was pathetic. Pathetic. Harry liked the sound of that word; it was easily spat out; easy to make it sound like it meant. Pathetic.

Crap.

He stood up and walked to the Floo, and firecalled Ron.

"Fancy a drink, mate?" he asked. "I'm going spare here on my own."

"Sure. Hermione's lost to the world for the next six months anyway," he said, nodding. "Be there in five."

Harry checked that he had enough Butterbeer, which had always been Ron's drink of choice, and was opening a couple of bottles when the Floo roared and Ron stepped through. He clapped Harry on the back and took the opened bottle.

"Thanks for getting me away from the house." He took a drink from the bottle. "All Hermione can talk about is those books you gave her today. You do realise that I might have to put off our wedding because of this," he said, giving Harry a playful shove.

"Then maybe you have more to thank me for than you think," Harry joked back. "Saved you from a fate worse than death, I have," he added theatrically.

"There is that." Ron nodded thoughtfully and then broke out in a grin. "Cheers mate," he said, holding up his bottle. Harry laughingly joined in and drank, then they both flopped down on the couch.

"Seriously, though," Harry said, sobering. "It's not that bad is it?"

"'Course not," Ron said. "She'll stop reading when…when she's read them all," he finished, laughing wryly.

"On the other hand," Harry said, elbowing his friend. "When has she ever not had a book in her hand?"

"Also true," Ron admitted. "You couldn't have given them to her one at a time, though?"

"I could have, but where would be the fun in that? This way I got to see her totally speechless. Money couldn't buy how good that made me feel."

"Totally speechless, huh?" Ron looked at him in resignation. "The only time I ever make her totally speechless is when I shove something in her mouth." Ron stopped and blushed. "Okay, you don't need to know that."

Harry laughed. He didn't mind hearing all this. At one time he thought he'd hate hearing about how his two best friends had sex, or whatever they did, but he didn't. They loved each other and if it were any other girl, Harry knew Ron would still say the same things and he, as a mate, would listen. The fact that it was Hermione should make no difference at all.

"Well, I guess my way of seeing her speechless is much better all round," Harry said, smirking.

"Er…yes," Ron said, emphatically.

"Getting back to this wedding you say you're going to have to put off – you have set a date, haven't you?" Harry asked.

Ron nodded. "December fifteenth. Don't ask me why it is so close to Christmas, that's the day she wanted it," Ron said, holding his hands up. "Something to do with it being her parents wedding anniversary. Said if it was an auspicious date for them then it would be a good one for us, too. I'm not inclined to disagree with her, mate, she's always right."

"True. And you got the reception place you wanted for that day?"

"Yes. I thought mum would have a fit when we told her she wasn't catering for the wedding." Ron drained the last of his bottle and got up to get another. "She went on about how we should save our money for the house and not waste it on feeding everyone a meal they'll forget as soon as they've eaten it."

He tossed Harry another bottle when he came back and they both opened the new ones with a flourish.

"She's got a point," Harry said. "People aren't attending your wedding for the food, you know. They want to see you two get married, that's all. You could do it out in the middle of a field, among the daisies and not feed them at all and they wouldn't care."

"You don't have to tell me, mate, but I'm told it's the bride's big day and so whatever the bride wants, the bride gets. It's easier that way, trust me. When you…oh, sorry." Ron shook his head.

"No matter," Harry smiled, but inside the words cut from more than just not being able to marry a same sex partner, but that he'd never have the chance or the need to fight that law. He could have a form of marriage in the Muggle world, but Wizarding society hadn't evolved that far yet. Sometimes, with their customs and rituals wizards hadn't emerged from the nineteenth century.

"Anyway," Ron continued after a drink from his bottle. "Hermione and I expect to only get married once and she wants no one to have to worry about anything. She doesn't want mum and whomever else she'd rope in, to have to spend days getting ready, be in a complete mess on the day and end up not enjoying themselves. I agree. I want my family's focus to be on us and not on the extras."

"So, where are you having it?"

"Regal Receptions," Ron said, lifting his nose in a useless attempt to look snooty. The problem was that red hair and freckles didn't normally lend themselves to snooty. "The Deluxe Meal Deal," he continued, waving his bottle around in an approximation of a flourish.

"Sounds good, mate," Harry said, and he hoped that it was good. For his friend's sake. Or else Molly would spend the next twenty years bemoaning the fact that they wasted money on a good for nothing meal, when they could have kept their money and had a perfectly respectable reception at The Burrow.

"Yeah," Ron agreed and subsided into thought for a minute. "Did you ever think we'd get to this stage, Harry?" he asked.

"What stage?"

"Like getting married, buying houses, having kids, like Neville and Hannah."

"Nope." Harry shook his head as he drained the second bottle. "Never did."

"I did. Up until I met you. And then not so much until the war was over," Ron said, thoughtfully.

Harry got up and went to get another couple of bottles of Butter-beer, as much for the beer as for causing a break in the conversation so that he might change the subject. In some ways he felt that it might have been better if he had died in the war. What was Fate thinking, giving him seven years to see what life might have been like without death hanging over his head? Giving him a small taste to show him what he'd never have, that everyone else just accepted? Just a hint of hope and a future and a normal life? What a fucking con Fate was.

When he opened the two bottles in the kitchen before heading back to the lounge, he threw their lids with all the force he could muster into the sink. One bounced back and hit him in the shoulder and the other just hit the wall. It left a mark, but he didn't care. What difference was a bloody mark on a wall when he was fucking dying?

He took the bottles back into the lounge and sank back onto the couch, handing Ron a bottle.

"How about we get totally smashed, Ron?"

"I have work tomorrow, I can't," Ron griped.

"Take the day off. You're entitled to a day off every now and then and I bet you've had none for ages."

"I did." Ron frowned. "Back when…er…back when Bill and Fleur had what's her name…"

"Ron, that was two years ago."

"It was?"

Harry nodded.

"Right, then I'm having tomorrow off," Ron said, decisively. "Can't get plastered on Butterbeer. You go break out the Firewhisky and I'll Floo Hermione and tell her not to wait up. If she even hears me, that is. She'll have her nose buried in those books."

"Deal."

Five minutes later, Harry and Ron were sprawled out over the furniture drinking Firewhisky and had made plans to put a serious dint in a second bottle as well as finishing up their current one.

By the time they'd started on the second one they were laughing and the maudlin thoughts Harry had been having were washed away in a flood of alcohol. At least the Firewhisky and the good company of his best mate had covered them up a little.

It took the neighbours banging on the walls complaining about them singing old school songs at the tops of their voices at 3am to call a halt to their evening.

Harry slung his arm round Ron's shoulder as he helped him toward the Floo. "You're my best mate, mate, ya know? Best mate I could ever have," Harry slurred.

"Never regretted meeting you on the train." Ron nodded, his head weaving and swaying before Harry's face. At Harry's astonished face, Ron put his hand over Harry's open mouth. "Not even when I was mad, or nearly dying or even when you made me come back with you and save Malfoy in the final battle." Ron was looking at Harry, whose vision was blurred even through his glasses, and nodding seriously. "You're me best mate an' always will be. Like me brother, you are." And then proceeded to nod over and over again as if reinforcing what he'd said and if he nodded enough then it would make it truer.

"Yeah, you're like my brother, too, mate." Harry agreed as he reached for the Floo powder. "Hug Hermione for me."

Ron nodded some more and swayed on his feet. "Right you are," he replied. Stepping, or rather staggering, into the fireplace, he dropped his Floo powder and called out "The Haven" and then was gone. Harry hoped that his stomach survived the traveling.

There would be hell to pay tomorrow morning, Harry knew that, but that was tomorrow morning and there was no need to care about that sort of thing right now. In fact, he felt so good that he should drink like this more often. What a nice way to spend his last lonely days - in a haze of alcoholic fumes and uninhibited behaviour patterns. He could just float through the next year or whatever he had left.

Although, why bother wasting the year? It would be so much easier just to end it now while he felt so good. Maybe it wouldn't even hurt? Maybe he wouldn't feel the aching loss as the wind rushed past his face on the way down? Maybe he wouldn't think it was taking the coward's way out while the ground was rushing up to meet him. And maybe the final thud when he hit the ground wouldn't echo in his soul in the afterlife. And maybe, just maybe, he wanted to live after all.

As he hit the mattress face first when he threw himself on the bed, his last conscious thought was that he couldn't quite understand what had happened. How he'd gone from feeling so good to contemplating the merits or otherwise of suicide.

His alcohol sodden dreams that night were full of situations where he couldn't escape.

He'd find himself trapped on the top of a wardrobe while rising flood waters encroached to the point of cutting off his air. Then he'd find himself in a car that was heading at top speed off a cliff. Or on the wrong end on a gun, or a curse, or a truck, or a crossbow.

But he never died in any of them. He'd tell himself in the dream that the story went that if you died in your dreams you'd actually die. Even if there was no truth to the theory, Harry's subconscious wasn't about to test it.

Until the last dream. The one that could have been his reality. This dream he couldn't run away from and even his subconscious couldn't save him this time. He saw himself become weaker, lose more weight, lose speech function, memory, muscle control, one after the other until he was nothing more than a husk. A partially functioning brain inside a rapidly weakening body. Even his dream self knew when it was time to give up.

And so he did.

Or he would have, but a loud, continuous knocking on the door woke him up.


	7. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Not Mine

* * *

Author's Notes: A much happier chapter this week. Hope you all enjoy and I've been really thankful for all of your lovely comments on this story. Thank you so much! I read each one with a smile on my face.

jamie

xxxx

* * *

_ The ingenuity of man has always been dedicated to the solution of one problem,  
how to detach the sensual sweet, the sensual strong, the sensual bright, &c.,  
from the moral sweet, the moral deep, the moral fair…_

ATTRIBUTION: Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882),  
U.S. essayist, poet, philosopher. "Compensation,"  
Essays, First Series (1841, repr. 1847).

Fate or destiny, while being a total con as far as Harry was concerned, seemed to laugh in his fucking face all the time, he grumbled as he rolled over in bed and attempted to ignore the pounding. No, Fate had come to his rescue so many times in the past, saved him from death or extreme torture – why wouldn't he expect it to stop him from dying again? Even in his dreams.

Except sooner or later his luck was going to run out and then even Fate wouldn't be able to save him. Or was it Fate that decreed his time was up and she was stepping aside for Death to weave his own brand of magic and remove his spiritual being from his physical?

He didn't stop to wonder why he'd woken with rational thoughts clattering around the thumping headache. How did it do that, anyway? Did they slide greasily between the great hammers on the inside of his head?

Unfortunately, the pounding appeared to be real and was coming from the direction of the front door. Why couldn't whoever it was have Flooed over? Then he wouldn't have to get up and answer the door.

"All right, I'm coming," he called out only to immediately grimace at the grip the noise took on his head.

He dragged himself up off the bed, swaying at the upset in his equilibrium. Luckily he still had boxers on, because he didn't know if he would cope bending over to pick something up to cover himself with, it was enough to reach for his glasses and secure those to his head. His stomach felt like it was sitting right up at the back of his throat, all wound up and wanting to go somewhere – preferably the bowl of the toilet, apparently.

With what he considered to be great fortitude, he made it to the front door and opened it to blearily look at who had been so rudely pounding on it.

"Draco?"

Oh, just perfect. No, Fate hadn't intervened to save his life; she had intervened to kill him by mortifying him so completely he dropped dead just to escape the embarrassment. Draco was staring at him, he knew, but he couldn't focus enough to ascertain the expression on his face. He just shook his head and indicated for Draco to come inside, before turning and heading for the lounge and dropping into an armchair.

"Hangover?" Draco asked and Harry nodded, closing his eyes at the throb that caused. "Do you have any hangover cure?"

"Bathroom," Harry answered and wondered if hammers had ever really managed to beat their way outside the skull. He forced himself to count slowly until Draco came back, focusing on both settling his stomach and the numbers he was counting, because if he had to make a run for the bathroom, then he was sure he'd pass out before he made it two steps.

By the time he reached fifteen, Draco had returned and pressed the vial of potion into his hands. "Drink," he said. And Harry did, scrunching up his face at the flavour of it. After a few moments he could feel it going to work, the need for his stomach to expel itself down the toilet bowl abated and the hammers in his head suddenly turned rubber and softened until they disappeared altogether.

"Thanks," he said, rubbing his temple to extinguish the last of the headache. When he looked up at Draco, he blanched. The man looked positively wretched.

"What's wrong? What's happened?" he asked, suddenly worried.

Draco sat there studying Harry for a long moment. Then he sighed and leant forward, head dropping to look at his feet. "I'm being evicted from my flat. Since I lost my source of income, I can't pay my rent and they've told me I'll have to leave. I have nowhere else to go, and I thought…"

Harry could see the flush creeping up Draco's neck and he knew that this was hard for him to admit.

"Of course you can stay here," Harry replied. "I have a spare room, no problems." Draco was first and foremost a friend and regardless of whatever else had happened, he was still that.

Draco blushed further. "No, I meant I thought I'd take you up on that offer if it was still good."

"Oh," Harry said, startled. "Oh. But it's not what you want, is it? It's at the point where you feel you're desperate and have no other option, right?"

Harry really felt for Draco as he slumped back in his seat and nodded. "It's not that I don't like you or don't find you attractive, I do, too much so. It's more that-" Draco ran hands through his hair, clearly uncomfortable. "If there ever was to be anything between us, I'd not like it to be bought and paid for. I'd like it to be because we both want it, and not like I was selling myself to you or you were buying me."

Harry nodded; he did understand that. "I'm sorry for ever thinking that would be a good idea," he said. He stood and went to the desk in the corner, picking up the papers for the shop. "I have a new deal for you," he said, passing over the papers to Draco, who looked bemused and started reading the topmost sheet. "And no arguments.

"I bought a shop yesterday. I want to help you and for once you're going to let someone. I will advance you a loan – a loan only - to set yourself up a Potions lab in my shop, where you will have six months rent free in which to establish your business. You may live here in the spare room also rent free for six months, after which you can start paying normal commercial rental for both the shop and the room."

"Harry, I-" Draco was shaking his head, looking at Harry dumbfounded, and unless Harry was mistaken there was that sad look in his eyes that had been there two days ago. The one that said there was everything he'd ever wanted right there in front of him and he couldn't take it.

"I said no arguments. I want to do this and you need some help. It's a loan, Draco, not charity. Neville and Madam Pomfrey want you for your skill, not as a favour to you or anyone else."

Now the look was cautious hope. "This is all real then? I'm not dreaming?" he asked, searching Harry's eyes for what he assumed were hints that this was all some joke.

"It's real. Don't you think you deserve a chance?"

"I've wanted one for so long, but I never thought I deserved one," Draco said, and Harry was fairly sure he heard a tremor in Draco's voice and saw a sheen of moisture across Draco's eyes.

"Well, you do. Everyone does," Harry asserted.

"How can I ever thank you for this, Harry?" Draco asked, real emotion building in his tone, now.

"By being successful." Harry grinned. "And by staying my friend."

Draco nodded. "You sure you don't want the other arrangement, too?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I was wrong to even suggest it. You're right, if there is to be anything between us then it needs to be because we want it and not because you're pressured into it."

"So, why are you still helping me?"

Harry laughed. "You dolt. You're my friend. It's obscene how much money I have. I could never use it all. Let me do something good with it, something worthwhile. You're worthwhile," Harry said, smiling. "I admit there are days when I wonder…" He was joking of course and when Draco looked up quickly, a retort on his lips, he made sure it was obvious he was joking.

"Bastard," Draco grumbled, fondly.

"I am serious about you being worth it, you know. Back in school I might not have thought so, but you're not that kid anymore and you work harder than any of us. Let me help you, Draco."

Draco nodded. "Thank you, Harry," he whispered.

"Don't mention it. You saved my head with the hangover potion." Harry grinned. "Least I could do."

"We'll get papers drawn up, so that everything is official," Draco insisted. Harry nodded his head.

"Of course, if that's what you want, I'll organise it with my solicitors," he said.

"I think it would be best to have the agreement formalised so that there is no ambiguity on either side."

Harry wondered how much more unambiguous he could be, but shrugged and thought that the more business like the deal was then the more organised Draco could be.

"Fine. Now, I think maybe I should go and put some clothes on. I must say I've never done business sitting around half naked in my underwear before." Harry smiled, wryly.

"You could always just go the whole way and divest yourself of them completely." Draco winked at him.

"Bloody flirt," Harry said back. "No wonder I want in your pants so badly."

Draco laughed. "Doesn't everyone?"

Harry made a rude gesture at him with his fingers as he stood up. "I'm going to shower. You might want to go and collect your stuff. You know where the spare room is?"

Draco nodded. "Do you have a spare key?"

"No, but I'll have one made up today," Harry replied, shaking his head.

"Would it be possible to go and have a look at the shop later?" Draco asked.

"Sure. I think they sent me keys when the paper work came back."

A smile lit up Draco's face. "Things are really going to change for me, now, aren't they?"

The joy and hope that Harry saw in those stormy grey eyes filled him with such immense pleasure that he realised most people don't want a handout, they just want a hand, a chance to make it on their own.

Harry moved over to him and pulled him to his feet, kissing his lips quickly. "I hope so, you're way too pretty to be wasting away and living on the streets."

"Hmm," Draco slid his arms around Harry's waist. "And you, Potter are too sexy to be walking around half naked and not expect to get manhandled from time to time." Draco's nose wrinkled. "But not right now. You smell like a brewery. Go and shower and make it quick, because if you're not done by the time I get back, I might just join you and see if the package matches the advertising." Draco laughed at his own joke.

As did Harry. "Tart," he joked back, disentangling himself from Draco's arms and heading for the bathroom, calling over his shoulder. "I'll make sure I take a long shower then."

Standing under the shower a few minutes later, Harry felt the elation settle inside him and found a smile on his face that assumed it belonged there. Even though the application of his good intentions had begun a little off centre, everything had worked out well in the end. The most important thing – that Draco was getting help – had occurred and the other, well, should the other happen then that was a bonus.

There was something very comforting about the thought of having Draco living in the flat with him, although, he realised now, he'd have to make sure that anything to do with his illness was locked away in his bedroom. But, apart from that, the very fact of having someone in the flat so that he wasn't on his own anymore was…heartening, relieving, calming.

Not only did he get companionship from the deal, but in addition to the book he was about to start writing, he thought he'd also offer to physically help get Draco all set up and ready for business. That would fill his time and keep him busy. As an added bonus he got to appreciate Draco's good looks and company every single day. Things didn't get much better than that.

All right, yes they did, but at this moment, standing under a hot shower realising that he was not going to live alone and he had things to keep him occupied and prevent him from dwelling on his grim future, he was happy. Which in itself was enough to shock him to the core.

He was dying and yet he was happy.

How did that happen? How did one find happiness in the process of dying?

Had he not been dying he wouldn't have made any changes to his life. Hermione wouldn't have her books, Draco would be broke and have nowhere to live and without the previous offer Harry had made, might not have thought to come to him for help. He might have gone to Blaise and Ginny instead. But no, he'd come to Harry and now Harry was going to benefit.

For the first time since he'd been given the news, he was looking forward to the future. The fact that he had this foreign object growing inside him could take a running jump to the back of his head while he enjoyed the time he had left. There would be time enough to think about dying when the potion stopped working. Each little event in his life and in his friends lives that he could experience, he wanted to embrace with open arms. Live and submerse himself in what made him happy. And what made him happy right at the moment was his friends; those he considered family.

By the time Draco arrived back with several trunks, all shrunk of course, Harry was all showered and dressed and feeling on top of the world. He helped Draco unpack, saddened by the fact that the trunks and bags were all Draco possessed in the world, and then they both agreed they'd pick up a pie or a sandwich to eat while they checked out the new shop.

As they walked through Diagon Alley, Harry still feeling the tingle of excitement touching him, he found that feeling good put a special shine on everything. Even some of the dinghy shops in Diagon Alley looked good today under the bright summer sun and his own feelings of happiness. Maybe it was infectious. And his roast beef and mustard sandwich was the best he'd ever had.

Draco stood stock still when he saw the shop, a hand on Harry's arm, stopping him.

"This is it?" he asked, disbelief in his voice.

"Yeah," Harry replied, not sure if that was a good reaction or a truly terrible one. "I mean you can change the colour scheme and such to whatever you'd like, but this is it."

"Harry, you have just bought one of the most sought after properties in Diagon Alley!" Draco exclaimed. "It's perfect, because it's two doors up from Ollivanders, across the road from Flourish and Blotts and…it's right in the hub of everything. It's perfect." Draco's voice trembled on 'perfect' and Harry smiled as he shrugged.

"I thought it might be good for you," he said. "As soon as I saw it, I knew. It's clean and near everything and it has a big room out the back that you can set up as your Potions lab," Harry enthused, walking to the door and opening it with the key.

He pushed open the door and let Draco enter first. It led directly to the actual shop and Draco spent the next ten minutes walking around it, looking at it from every angle and thinking aloud.

"I'll need counters and shelves and I want huge baskets for herbs and would it be alright if I put in some more windows?"

Harry smiled. "Of course, whatever you think you need."

"I can't wait to get started in here. You'll help me?" Draco grinned at him, the excitement shining in his eyes.

He really liked seeing Draco like this. It seemed like some of the worry lines had smoothed away. He nodded. "Yes, I'll help you. As long as you don't treat me like a house-elf, that is."

Draco waved his sandwich at Harry, brushing off the suggestion. "Like I'd do that." Draco was grinning at the time, so Harry knew that at some point or other Draco would order him around like a house-elf. Not that he minded much, seeing this shop take shape was going to be fun. And it was Draco's shop, so he'd have the final say.

"At some stage I might need to get an assistant, too," Draco mused. "Someone to look after the shop when I am working on potions."

Harry smiled. "Do you know where to order all the things you'll need? Cauldrons, vials, ingredients…"

Draco nodded. "Yes, those suppliers would be the same ones that I used for the potions I made for the Apothecary. I should get onto them," he said. "We should have bought down some parchment and quill to write a list of things I need."

"I'm sure we'll remember," Harry replied. "It's good to see you so happy."

Draco grinned and leant over, kissing him on the lips. "Thank you for all of this, Harry."

"Don't thank me," Harry said. "The only thanks I need are to see you build yourself a secure future. That will make me happy."

"Even so, I'm very grateful I have such good friends."

Smiling, Harry indicated the windows. "Do you have any plans for a window display?"

"Mmm…" Draco thought for a moment, taking a bite of his sandwich. "I think I want a riot of colour. You don't often get that with Apothecary shops. They tend to be dark and mysterious and a tad dusty. But I want flowers and colour to make people feel happy to come inside."

"Flowers?" Harry asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yeah, flowers have a medicinal use, Harry, and if not the flowers, the seed pods or the roots. You should remember that from Potions at school, even if you were totally useless." Draco smirked. "They can be an economical way to brighten up the shop."

"Okay, and you'll be making potions for Hogwarts and for Neville, which I am assuming you'll also sell in the shop, but what else will you sell?"

"Now, that's a question," Draco said. "I haven't had a lot of time to think about this, you only sprung it on me a few hours ago. But I would think all the things I'd be making for Hogwarts would be legal to sell. Neville's as well. Plus the ones I was making for the Apothecary. They can keep their middle of the road potion and I'll make only quality."

'Good for you." Harry smiled back. "And you can refuse to sell it to them when they come after you for it."

"Of course, Potter. That's a given. They paid me a pittance to make a very complex potion. They're not getting my skill back again."

It was wonderful to see some of the fire come back into Draco's eyes.

"Thought of a name for the shop yet?" he asked.

"I have, actually," Draco said. "I've had a name in my dreams for years, ever since I was eleven and knew I wanted to make potions for a living." He blushed a little before continuing. "I want to call it 'Perfect Potions'. It has no connection to the Malfoy name, so there will be no negative publicity from that angle. People who walk in off the street won't know who owns it if I have an assistant as a sales person. And it has a light-hearted sound to it, like the atmosphere I'm trying to create."

"Sounds good," Harry agreed. "A more enticing sounding shop than 'The Apothecary'."

"I still can't quite believe this is happening," Draco said, spinning around slowly and looking at his shop.

"How about I leave you here to think about the rest of what you'll want? I need to go and have that agreement drawn up and I have a few other things to take care of, so I'll meet you back at home?"

Home. That had a nice ring to it. Draco nodded, smiling.

"Oh, here, sorry I forgot. The keys to the shop." Harry handed over the keys to the shop, which Draco accepted but not before taking a deep breath.

"See you at home," he said.

.o0o.

Sebastian Tort was a middle aged, balding man, encumbered by a generous spread around his middle and a handlebar moustache that he could have tied round the back of his head.

He was, however, a decent lawyer and had come highly recommended eight years ago when Dumbledore had died and left Harry everything. He'd needed someone to take care of the estate – all three estates, and Mr. Tort had performed well.

And naturally, when the secretary saw Harry, he quickly made sure that Mr. Tort was free and ushered Harry inside.

Mr. Tort was also endowed with a killer handshake, as Harry had found out all those years ago and never forgotten. Therefore he prepared himself for the crushing grip and steeled his expression to not show any grimace of pain.

"Harry Potter, how may I help you today?" Mr. Tort beamed as they shook hands and sat down.

"I take it you received copies of the documents regarding the purchase of a shop I made yesterday?" Harry asked, getting straight to the point whilst surreptitiously flexing his hand to ease the pain.

Mr. Tort nodded. "Yes, I did. Looks like you made a wise investment there, Harry. Excellent property and should appreciate extremely well."

"Yes, yes." Harry nodded. "I'd like to sign over ownership to someone else, but not have them aware of it until my death. Is that possible?"

"Yes, it is. Not a problem at all. May I ask why you want to do this?"

Harry took a deep breath. "I'll need some sort of binding oath from you to not disclose anything of what I'm about to tell you."

"Well, the oath I took when I took on your account deems me incapable of passing on any information unless strictly necessary for the running of your estate," Mr. Tort frowned.

"I need one that covers personal matters as well, "Harry insisted. "There are two people who are aware of this information and I'd rather it not be made public knowledge."

"Of course. A secrecy oath should suffice for that." Mr. Tort took his wand in his hand, placed his other hand over his heart and recited. "I, Sebastian Tort, hereby declare that I will never reveal any personal information about Mr. Harry Potter to anyone unless directed by himself to do so." He waved his wand and a pale blue light emerged from the end and wound itself around Mr. Tort's pudgy hand before disappearing into his chest.

"Thank you." Harry smiled, and went on to tell Mr. Tort of his medical condition and the reasons for him not wanting anyone to know. He went into details of the change of ownership of the property and how he wanted the other agreement prepared – the one he and Draco would both sign.

He separated out Dumbledore's book collection from the rest of the estate and arranged for some sort of certificate of ownership for Hermione. She could loan it to the public library as she wished, but Harry wanted her to keep ownership of them. They were a virtually priceless collection and he had no wish to donate them to an entity rather than to one of his best friends.

Lastly, he asked that a draft be made on his personal account to the establishment where Ron and Hermione were having their wedding reception. Paying for their reception seemed to be something he could do for them. Something to make their lives easier – they wouldn't have to put off buying their house then. A wedding present. He'd have liked to do it anonymously, but he knew that even if he did, they would know it was him. No matter.

Mr. Tort pushed him to make a will, declaring that if Harry were to die without one or without a legal heir then his whole estate would go to the Ministry. Harry demurred and said he'd think about it. He had no one to leave it all to anyway. Perhaps his friends should share his parent's money; maybe Draco should have the Black money and who knew what to do with Dumbledore's? When he figured that out, he'd make one. A will was too final, anyway. He wasn't ready for that yet.

By the time all the papers were drawn up and signed, it was late in the afternoon. Harry was very grateful that Mr. Tort had put aside any work he had to do for Harry's needs. Mr. Tort made sure to let Harry know that it would be reflected in his bill. Harry laughed and thanked him again and then headed home. After such a late night the night before, along with the heavy drinking, and the full day, especially going over all the legalese talk this afternoon, Harry was feeling very tired.

All he wanted was to go home and put his feet up. He might be a Muggle and order in pizza. Then some mind numbing television for a couple of hours and an early night. Sounded perfect.

By the time Draco arrived home about an hour after Harry, it was dark and Harry had ordered pizza, which had been delivered and was sitting on the coffee table alongside a half empty glass of pumpkin juice. Harry was sitting on the couch, feet on the table and television tuned to some silly comedy show that had very corny jokes but didn't require Harry to pay terribly much attention.

Draco flopped down on the couch beside him, still all excited about the shop.

"I've got suppliers coming tomorrow and the Ministry to do the certification next week. I'll have to contact Neville and Madam Pomfrey and let them know, or should you do that, seeing as it's all so unofficial at the moment?"

Harry laughed. "You can do it. I'd love you to see the pleasure on Neville's face when you tell him you can do his potion after all. He'll be over the moon."

Draco sighed happily and dropped his head on Harry's shoulder comfortably. "Okay, I'll do that in the morning. Did you get that agreement drawn up?"

"I did," Harry replied. "And I've arranged for ten thousand galleons to be transferred into your account at Gringotts. That should be there tomorrow."

"Harry," Draco gasped, sitting up. "I'm not sure I need that much."

"Better to be safe than sorry," Harry said. "If you don't need it then you don't. The papers are on the desk over there. Sign them and send them back in the morning."

Draco nodded, and then seemed to spot the pizza. "What, may I ask, is that?"

"You can't tell me you don't know what a pizza is," Harry replied, surprised.

"I don't know what a pizza is," Draco repeated, deadpan. He leant forward and opened the box and sniffed. "I do know what pizza is, I've just not seen it in a box like this, nor have I actually ever eaten any. It smells nice, though. I thought you'd been cooking when I came in, but this is what it was."

"Eat some. That's dinner. I've had a very draining afternoon with my legal eagle and I couldn't be bothered cooking."

"What's on it?" Draco asked. "I can see meat and cheese like on some base and I can see olives –"

Harry cut him off, smiling "Just eat some. You'll like it trust me."

Draco picked up a piece of the pizza and took a small bite. "Hmm, not bad at all, Potter. You may prove to be a useful housemate yet." He grinned and bit off a larger piece as he flopped back beside Harry.

"Oh, so now you only want me for my food and not my body. I get it," Harry said, feigning hurt.

"Of course, " Draco joked back, licking his lips and taking another bite.

"Good to know," Harry said, attempting to give Draco a smile, but it got stopped half way when he had to yawn.

"You really are tired, aren't you?"

Harry nodded. "You're not though, I can see."

"Too excited about today," Draco said, shaking his head. He finished his pizza and then patted his knee "Here, lie down and relax."

"Who am I to resist the opportunity to have my head in a gorgeous man's lap?" Harry quipped and then did as he was told, turning and laying along the couch, his head in Draco's lap.

For the next ten minutes there was silence as Draco ate pizza with one hand and with his other he ran his fingers through Harry's hair, gently massaging his scalp. Harry couldn't remember the last time anyone had touched him like that. He sighed, hoping it sounded a happy sigh, but it was a mix of contentment and a little sadness. He was really enjoying lying here being tenderly touched by Draco, but there was also sadness because he wanted more.

"Don't, Harry," Draco, whispered, leaning over him and pressing his lips to Harry's for a second. "Don't think so much, just relax and enjoy it."

"And if I am enjoying it too much?" Harry whispered back, opening his eyes.

"I can stop if you like," Draco said, searching Harry's face for something.

Harry reached up with his hand and cupped Draco's jaw, caressing it with his thumb. "Not yet."

He fell asleep still on Draco's lap ten minutes later.


	8. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Not Mine

* * *

Author's Note: Hmmm I like this chapter. Thanks to you all so much for the reviews. loves

Enjoy

jamie

xxxx

* * *

_If life could give me one thing before I die;  
it's the wisdom to accept when it's time,  
but in the meantime, the courage  
to scream that I won't go peacefully_.

_Harry Potter, August 2005. _

It was with some surprise that Harry found himself in his own bed when he woke the next morning. He stretched and felt the delicious pull of muscles that sometimes almost felt as good as an orgasm. Almost. God, but it was good to wake up looking forward to the day for a change. Neville's party was this evening and Harry had spent a long time months ago looking for the perfect gift for his friend. He'd found it, in of all places, the Divination classroom at Hogwarts.

Among Professor Trelawney's class stores, he'd found a first edition Astrological Guide to Horticulture. There were only three of these books in existence. The Public Library had one as Lucius Malfoy had been in possession of a copy. A second one was owned by an undisclosed private collector and was inaccessible, but the third copy Harry had locked away in a safe place until tonight.

He was just lying there, contemplating getting up and starting his day, when there was a soft knock on the door and Draco walked in, carrying a cup of coffee.

"Wake up, sleepy head,' he said as he placed the coffee on the bedside table and then without warning jumped on Harry straddling him on the bed, laughing at his surprised face.

"What are you doing?" Harry spluttered, hoping that Draco wouldn't move too much and reawaken his morning wood that had just about had time to disappear before being jumped on.

"Bringing you coffee and waking you up," he said, squirming around.

"Stop, Draco," Harry said, placing both hands on Draco's thighs. "That's completely unfair."

"I know," he smirked. "But then I'm rarely fair, Potter."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "I'll remember this on a morning where you've had too much to drink the night before and I'll come and wake you up and try to do depraved things to your body."

"It would be my pleasure," Draco cooed and started moving around in Harry's lap again.

"Draco," Harry said warningly. "I'd like nothing better than to flip you over and fuck you through to next door, but that would take this where you don't want to go, so I mean it, stop now, or I won't."

Draco sighed. "All right, then." He rolled off Harry and lay down beside him on the bed. "I was thinking we should get some kind of house rules thing going. Like shower times and schedules and stuff. I really know nothing about your life, other than you have a deplorable lack of decent food. My God, how do you live?"

Harry thought for a moment, half sitting up in the bed and resting his back against the headboard. He picked up his coffee and sipped it, before speaking.

"I make do." Harry laughed. "I'm pretty easy going. I don't see why we need too many rules, we're both adults and we can sort things out as we go. How does that sound?"

"I really just want to know what time you normally shower, so I can make sure I'm home and can accidentally come in and watch you," Draco said, casually.

It made Harry choke on his coffee. "What's going on, Draco?" Harry asked when he recovered. "Are you going to be this flirty all the time or is this heading up to something else?"

"I don't know," groaned Draco. "I just…aarrrghh… feel so jumpy. I'm horny as hell and excited about the shop and I adore you and I just can't seem to help myself."

"Then how about you go and make yourself useful down at the shop, where you can be productive," Harry suggested.

"I will, but the suppliers aren't going to be there until 10 and it's not even 9 now. Sure we don't have time for a quickie?"

Draco!" Harry said, exasperated. "Look, maybe this isn't going to work. You want us to stay friends and we decide not to date because we don't want to risk that, and yet here you are, all over me offering some form of sexual relief. You're confusing me."

"We could always just have sex as friends. Have you never heard of that?" Draco stated bluntly.

"We could, but sex risks the friendship as much as a relationship does."

Draco sighed. "I know. I think I just need to get laid. Don't worry, I expect I'll find someone tonight at the party to help me out."

Harry frowned, knowing that the thought of Draco with someone else wasn't a very comfortable one. Not that he had any say in who Draco saw or dated, or fucked for that matter, and while he never saw it, it held no power to twinge the green eyed monster but living here in this flat with him all the time, he was going to have to put a tight rein on his envy. Draco must have caught the frown because he sighed and curled up against Harry's side brushing gentle fingertips across Harry's bare belly.

"We're pretty stupid, you know. I'd get just as jealous if you went off with any one other than me. What's going to happen to our friendship then if we're both angry and jealous? Maybe we should just decide to date."

Harry knew he'd give it a go in a second. He'd take whatever Draco was offering him in the hope that it would last for whatever time he had left. He was aware that entering into a relationship with Draco not knowing of his illness was wrong. Draco should have the choice of whether or not to be part of something that was going to cause him anguish in the end. But Harry wanted this. Badly. It was amazing that he'd have Draco in his life as a flat mate, which would stave off the loneliness, but he wanted that intimacy of a close relationship, too. Just once before he died. And he wanted the relationship unencumbered by anything resembling anxiety over his illness.

"Maybe we should," Harry said, placing his hand over Draco's on his stomach. "But I want you to think carefully about it. I would hate it to be in any way some sort of gratitude for helping you out, Draco."

"Harry," Draco said, half sitting up and looking down at him, scowling. "I'm actually quite insulted that you think I'd do that. Sex is not something I use as a bargaining tool. It's one of the reasons I didn't take you up on your first offer." Draco rose from the bed and stalked to the door. Before leaving, he turned gave Harry a hard, hurt look.

"In fact, that's twice now you've offended me regarding sex and my practice thereof. I think I need some time alone. I'll see you tonight at the party."

Then he turned and left the room, Harry hitting himself on the head and groaning at his stupidity.

.o0o.

Harry had planned on spending some time in the shop with Draco, helping him to set it up and unpack supplies and such when they arrived, but he thought he'd best give Draco some time on his own. They were off to a great start, he thought, if they wanted to not speak to each other and pretend the other wasn't there. He was an idiot, he knew that, and he'd have to figure out some way of apologising. And soon.

So instead of going out, he decided to remain inside and make a start on that book he said he'd write about his life. His autobiography. That sounded rather arrogant, as if assuming anyone would want to read about his life. Although in his case he knew it was necessary if he wanted something out there that was the truth and not sensationalised or romanticised, somehow.

After he'd showered and dressed, made himself some fresh coffee and a plate of summer fruits to snack on, he sat down and turned the computer on. He created a folder that he password protected, thinking that even though Draco had probably never used a computer before, he'd take no risks.

He really had no idea where to start, but he thought that a line or two about how he'd fought for his life might be a good start.

_ Tell a man he has a hundred years to live and watch him waste it.  
Tell an eleven year old he might not live to finish school and watch him fight.  
Tell a young man that he has a year to live and watch him live. _

Since when had he become so philosophical? He rather liked that analogy for himself, so it would stay. A chronicle on the daily events of this last year in his life, the book was not, but death was an integral part of his story. He'd already died once, and this one was no less important, more so in fact, because it would be final.

_If they'd told me when I was eleven what my life would have been like, were I able to understand the choices, would I have done anything any different? _

_I don't think you can live your life with regrets. There are many things I did wrong and wish with all my heart that they hadn't happened or I hadn't made those mistakes, but I think life or fate or destiny has a way of reminding us that our later choices – the right ones – are based on the lessons we learnt from our earlier mistakes and so, had those mistakes not been made, things may not have turned out as they have. _

_Let me tell you about my life, my choices and you decide… _

Harry worked, writing away in his jerky four fingers typing style, cursing over mistakes but gladly worshipping the backspace key. It wasn't until lunchtime and Draco arriving home that he stopped, and by then he had quite a few pages of typing. Of course it was just a first draft and therefore would need a professional to go through and fix it, but it was all his own words and it was all the truth.

When Draco walked in the door, he quietly went to his room without a word and shortly Harry heard the shower running. He sighed. There must be some way of apologising to Draco and making it sound sincere. Everything he thought of sounded rehearsed and flat in his head. Making him lunch as a peace offering might be a start, he thought, and so he saved all his work before turning the computer off and doing just that.

A plate of sandwiches and more fruit were waiting on the table when Draco emerged from the shower, a towel wrapped around his hips and drying his hair with another towel.

"I've made lunch," Harry called, trying and failing to keep his eyes from looking at Draco's chest.

"Thank you, I'm not really hungry though," Draco answered, perfectly politely. "I'm sorry I'm just in my towel, I'll just go and change into something decent for company."

"Draco, stop, please? I wanted to apologise for what I said earlier. I had no right to suggest that and I was wrong. I was just afraid that…that…" Harry stopped because he wasn't sure exactly what he'd been afraid of. Being hurt? Being resented because it had just been gratitude and Draco eventually finding himself unable to get out of it? Both probably. He shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"I forgive you, Harry. But you were right; I do need to think about it seriously. As do you."

"I already know, Draco. If you couldn't already tell by my original offer, I do want to take it further, so now it has to be your decision."

Draco nodded, some of the animation coming back into his face. "I'll think about it and let you know. What's for lunch?"

"Good," Harry smiled, relieved that things looked like they might be returning to normal. "Sandwiches. Chicken salad. Fruit."

"Nice." Draco smiled. "I'll just go and get dressed then."

"Oh don't bother on my account," Harry teased, getting some of his own back for the boxer short incident yesterday. "Why don't you just take it off entirely?"

Draco, perhaps predictably, gave Harry the same finger salute and sashayed off to dress. When he returned they enjoyed lunch, talking and laughing comfortably with each other and Harry could see that all was forgiven.

After lunch, Harry agreed to go with Draco back to the shop for a few more hours work before they needed to prepare for the evening party. Neville had requested that he be allowed to hold his 25th in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Headmistress McGonagall had agreed on the proviso that they only use the Great Hall and the accompanying bathrooms and restrooms and didn't spread out over the rest of the school.

Harry thought it a terrific idea. Not that he'd have had his there; he preferred quieter functions and truth be told he thought Neville did, too, but Hannah and Ginny had conspired together with Neville's Gran and nothing could stop them from inviting practically the whole of their year. And everyone Neville had ever known, it seemed, as Neville confided to Harry one day.

It was always wonderful going back to Hogwarts. The battle scars of the final battle had faded, but not the memories of the tragedies. Harry didn't mind reliving those; he'd long grown past feeling responsible for the deaths, but he did feel responsible for paying tribute to their sacrifice. So, whenever he was at Hogwarts he took a minute to relive the whole thing again, so he would never forget what some people gave so that they could defeat Voldemort.

By six-thirty both Harry and Draco were ready. Or Harry was ready; Draco was still looking for something to wear.

Draco admired the cut of Harry's Muggle suit and appreciated how well it sat across his shoulders and his backside, and Harry playfully whacked him on the arse and told him to go and dress, at which point Draco frowned and said he'd rather not go.

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"My one good set of robes didn't cope with the move all that well and with all the excitement of the shop and stuff I forgot to take it to be pressed. If you had some House-elves…" The accusation was there, but it wasn't heartfelt. Draco didn't really expect Harry to take it seriously. Harry just rolled his eyes and grabbed Draco's wrist, dragging him into his bedroom.

He threw open the closet door and said, "Here, take your pick."

"Harry, I really don't think your choices in clothing would suit me," Draco started, and then spotted a dark emerald green shirt on the rack. "Oh, now that's nice. I have some black trousers that would go well with that," he said moving towards it and lifting it from the rack.

"Well there's a jacket and trousers that go with that," Harry said, digging in further along the rack to find them.

"Since when do you know so much about clothes, anyway? I only ever see you in jeans and shirts or wizards robes. And at school your clothes were dreadful."

"After the war, Fleur took me in hand and made sure I knew how to dress properly for all the useless official Ministry functions I had to attend," Harry said. "So these are probably couple of years old now and maybe a bit outdated but I only wore them once. You're welcome to them if you want."

"Well, I'll just borrow them for tonight if they fit. Thank you." Draco was smiling as he went off to dress and within ten minutes he was back, straightening the lapel of the jacket and ensuring his hair was perfect, in Harry's full-length mirror.

"You look …smashing." Harry grinned.

"I do rather, don't I?" Draco smirked back. The classic style of the outfit suited Draco well and he knew how to wear clothes, Harry had to give him that.

"Yeah. What is it with you and looking like you just stepped out of a fashion magazine?"

"Breeding, Potter, good breeding. I keep telling you that." Draco turned and gave Harry the once over. "You'll do," he said. "Let's go then."

.o0o.

The party was in full swing when they arrived. Draco had insisted they arrive later than the prescribed 6pm or they'd be standing around with nothing to do until everyone else turned up. Neville greeted them at the door, accompanied by a very heavily pregnant Hannah, who looked radiant even so.

"Happy Birthday, Neville," Draco said, handing him a parcel, elegantly wrapped in gold paper. Harry repeated the same sentiments and handed Neville his gift. Neville beamed and thanked them, placing both gifts on a table laden with them.

"Harry, Draco! Nice to see you both. We don't usually see you two turning up together," Hannah said, her greeting both a hello and an unasked question.

"Hannah, you look beautiful," Harry replied, and Draco echoed him. "Draco and I live together now," Harry said smiling, knowing that he was deliberately giving her the wrong idea. "As flat mates," he added when he saw her beaming and about to congratulate them.

"Damn," she cursed. "Thought you two had finally got your act together and… got your act together." She laughed.

Harry saw Draco blushing slightly and he rested his hand on the small of Draco's back. "I think I should sit for a while," Hannah continued. "Neville told me about your good fortune, Draco. He was over the moon when he heard that he was going to have you producing his potion."

Draco smiled and held her arm, leading her over to a chair and ensuring that she sat down. "I'm really grateful for the opportunity, actually." He looked towards Neville who was hovering over his wife. "Thanks, Neville," he smiled.

"As I told Harry, Draco, you were always my first choice. I'm just so relieved that we have a Potions master of your calibre on the team now. It will do so much for the reputation of the potion."

Harry sat down in a chair beside Hannah. "How are you anyway, love? You look about ready to have this baby."

Hannah placed both hands on her stomach. "I am, Harry, I am. I still have a few weeks to go, but the sooner this is over the better. I am never being this pregnant in the summer time again."

A waiter passed by with drinks and Harry took one. Hannah asked for water and Neville and Draco pulled up chairs and sat with them.

"Well," Harry said, "I can't wait to see this little baby. I think you're the first of our year to have children." He beamed. "It's like the signal that the new generation is starting. One that will be so much more peaceful than ours."

"Hear, hear!" Draco said, raising his glass in a toast before drinking.

"Actually, Harry, we'd like to ask you something," Neville said, clearing his throat and looking a little nervous.

"Anything, Neville," he replied, curious.

Neville placed on hand over Hannah's and looked at her, smiling fondly. She nodded at him and he turned back to Harry.

"Hannah and I would like you to consider being our child's godfather."

Harry's mouth dropped open. He could feel Draco clapping him on the back and smiling. "Me?" he squeaked. "I'd be honoured, Neville, Hannah. Thank you." He put out his hand and shook Neville's, then leant in and kissed Hannah on the cheek. "Thank you both."

If he'd not been so surprised by being asked he would have had time to think it through logically. He couldn't be anyone's godfather! He wasn't going to be around to watch the child grow up. Why had he said yes? He couldn't very well go back on his word now, could he? And what excuse would he use anyway? Everyone had always known of Harry's love of family and he would never knowingly turn away something like this.

"No, you'd be doing us the honour, Harry," Neville said. "We've asked Ginny to be the godmother, and she was happy to help us out as well."

Well, at least the child would have one godparent.

After chatting for a few more minutes, more guests appeared and Neville and Hannah left to greet them, leaving Draco and Harry alone.

"Well, shall we go and mingle?" Draco asked, looking slightly askance at the assembled crowd. "Or should we tease a few more people and dance together," he said, giving Harry a sultry look.

"Leave off." Harry laughed. "You want to be front page news in tomorrow's Prophet?"

"Ooh, what for," asked a female voice from behind them. Harry turned and saw it was Pansy. He grinned and figured he'd let Draco explain that one.

"Pansy, love, come and rescue me from this lecherous man," Draco exclaimed.

"Draco, don't be ridiculous! If Potter here is a lech, then there's no hope for the rest of us ever having sex again," Pansy replied, looking devastated.

"What?" Harry spluttered, amused. "I resemble that remark."

Draco and Pansy were both laughing now. "Come on Harry, I'm joking, but you do have to admit that your sex life has been in a bit of a slump for the last…for ever really, hasn't it?" Pansy smirked.

"It's not been that long," Harry huffed, knowing that it really had. Like two years long.

"It has, too, Potter, and if the Chosen One can't even get laid once in a while, what hope do the rest of us have?"

"Now, now Pans, Harry had a very enticing offer of just that, this very morning in fact, but in a hopeless, typically oblivious Gryffindor style opened his mouth and the moment was gone," Draco drawled.

Harry looked aghast between them, not knowing whether to join in the joke at his expense of to storm off in a huff. After a moment, watching how amused Draco and Pansy were at the look on his face, he chose the middle ground and lifted his chin in the air. "I see Hermione over there, I shall go and speak to her and see if I can get some intelligent conversation," he said and walked away with as much dignity as he could muster, leaving their giggles behind him. He deserved that, he knew he did and he didn't mind really, Draco and Pansy were close from school and he probably told her lots of things.

Hermione stood and almost ran to him when she spotted him, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. "Oh, Harry, thank you so much for the books."

"Hermione, you already thanked me for them," he said, a little perplexed.

"Yes, but I thought you were giving them to the library. I received the paperwork from your lawyer about giving _me_ ownership of them," she smiled. "It's such a wonderful thing to do, I'm so grateful."

Harry smiled, pleased as punch to see Hermione so happy. "Oh, you know they would have just been sitting mouldering in the vault. You deserve them, Hermione. If anyone does, you do. You'll treat them properly and with the care they deserve and preserve them for the next generation."

"I'll look after them, I promise. I'm actually going to set up a reading museum for the library. There are spells I can use to protect the books but still allow people to read them. We can't lose access to all that knowledge and the special stasis spells need a stable environment, so we're going to section off a wing and dedicate it to the older tomes and rare works."

Harry was always impressed with Hermione's knowledge of all things book-ish and even though she did tend to rabbit on about it from time to time, Harry loved it and wouldn't have her any other way. He nodded and listened carefully; convinced he'd done the right thing in bequeathing ownership of the books to her.

"Well, that sounds great, Hermione, tell me if you need anything in the way of help to protect the books," he said.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I think we're right with all that, but do you mind if I announce that the books are now part of the collection?"

"They're your books, Hermione, you can do what you like with them," Harry replied.

"But…people know that you inherited Professor Dumbledore's estate and so you'll be in the press again," she said. "Does that bother you?"

"Not so much," Harry admitted. Whilst he'd like nothing better than to be ignored by the press, now especially, he'd grown used to it, pushed it to the background of his life. He glanced over at Draco, taking a deep breath as he watched him chatting easily with Pansy and Blaise, now, and looking stunning. Besides, if he got his way there'd be more scandalous news concerning his private life that they'd report on, so a story about him contributing to the public library was nothing.

Hermione caught his glance and with a hand on his arm directed his attention back to her. "So, is there something you should be telling me?" she asked with a coy look on her face.

"What? About what?" Harry stalled.

"I saw that look you gave him and Blaise told me he'd been asked to leave his flat and had moved in with you. He changed his mind, then?"

Harry shook his head. "No, he's thinking about it though."

"Did you want to reinstate the bet? Although…"

"No." Harry hastened to reassure her. "Only, if it does work, I will accept that public apology from you," he said, smiling cheekily.

"Alright," she replied. "Are you sure you know what you're doing? Putting your friendship at risk like this?"

Harry sighed. "Hermione, we're going to be putting our friendship at risk if we don't try." He had no wish to speak about the sexual tension that seemed to simmer between them and the fact that it felt like they just couldn't keep their eyes, or hands for that matter, off each other.

"As long as you know what you're doing,"she said.

"Do any of us really know?" Harry said rhetorically.

"So, tell me what else you've been up to." Hermione smiled and changed the subject.

He sat and told her about the arrangement he had with Draco and the shop, which made her beam proudly at him. It made him feel rather good about himself that Hermione approved. He asked where Ron was, to be told that he was on a case and would be a little late finishing up paperwork. They were still chatting about that when Pansy dropped into the seat beside Harry.

"Potter, you must make Draco buy something like that suit. He looks positively divine in it," she said, nodding to where Draco was standing and talking with Madam Pomfrey and a couple of the other Professors.

"He does look drop dead gorgeous in it," Hermione admitted, blushing. "And I'll deny that if either of you mention it to Ron."

"My lips are sealed." Pansy smiled.

"I offered it to him tonight, but you know what he's like, he wouldn't accept it," Harry added.

"Well, get him one for Christmas or something. He's much more confident when he's dressed like he's used to dressing. Appearances mean a lot and Draco's whole life was about how one presented oneself. He misses the confidence that being better dressed than most people, gives him."

To be honest, Harry had never really noticed the difference. Draco had always seemed ultra confident around him – but then perhaps these days he felt he had nothing to prove to Harry and didn't feel the need to impress him, whereas he would still be feeling the need to impress people in order to obtain jobs. Pansy had a point then; Draco did need the accompanying clothing in order to make the right impression upon other companies that might want him to produce their potions.

"I'll see what I can do," he said, thoughtfully. "Perhaps I can just refuse to wear them again now that he has."

"You do that," Pansy replied, grinning slyly. "And while you're at it, if you have any spare cash floating around, I'm on a charity drive for the school."

"Oh? What do you need?"

"Just about everything," Pansy said, rolling her eyes. "The funding the Ministry allocated after the war for the orphanage has basically dried up. They're assuming that most of the children will have either been adopted now or grown up and out of the control of the orphanage. They seem to forget that there are new children being made orphans all the time," Pansy said, frowning. "They've basically told us that they'll feed and house the children but their schooling will have to be funded through private donations."

"They make me so angry," Hermione said. "How short sighted can they be to treat education so lightly or as unnecessary? Don't they realise that they're only creating problems for themselves in the future?"

"Exactly, Granger," Pansy agreed. "Having a group of uneducated rabble populating the back streets of Diagon Alley has proved so profitable in the past to Dark wizards. How can they not see that?"

"Let me know what you need, Pansy. I still have Professor Dumbledore's estate that I haven't decided what to do with yet. I can at least pay for the children you have now to be educated."

Both Hermione and Pansy looked at him open-mouthed.

"What?" he said.

"Just like that?" Pansy asked in disbelief?

"Why not?" he replied. "Look, I was an orphan too. I have no idea who paid for my education at Hogwarts, but it wasn't me. Who knows what might have happened to me had I not been given a Hogwarts education." He looked at them both closely. "And Professor Dumbledore spent his life putting the education of witches and wizards before anything, even when he was asked to become the Minister for Magic, so it's only fitting his money be spent on ensuring those orphans at least receive an education that will give them some skills to earn a living and take their place as productive members of our society."

And after that long speech he felt like adding 'So there!' at the end, because they were both looking at him in shock. Hermione was the first to break the spell, with a little squeak before she threw herself into his arms.

"Oh, Harry, that's wonderful. I'm sure that Professor Dumbledore would be so proud of you. You're right, education was his life and he'd be so pleased that some other children are being helped by his money."

"Hold off, Hermione," Harry said, fondly. "I've been looking for something to do with all his money. If I'd known that the Ministry were going to pull that nasty trick on the orphanage, then I'd have sent them money before now.

"Well done, Potter," Pansy said, still in awe. "I'll get our legal team to contact yours Monday morning with an idea of what we need. Will that suit you?"

Harry nodded. "It's the least I can do," he said.

After chatting for a while longer, Pansy rose and excused herself. Before she left, she turned to Harry.

"I'm going to tell that fool Draco that if he doesn't snap you up, then he deserves to lose you, Potter."

Harry blushed. "Don't. We're happy being friends. That's a big thing to risk."

"Be that as it may, he'd still be a fool not to want more. You're a good man, Harry Potter," she said smiling. Then she bent down and kissed his cheek before leaving to join some other friends.

"Told you," Hermione whispered beside him, smug.

Ron arrived a little later, Ginny and Blaise glided past and made sure that he was coming to the charity game in a few weeks, which he made sure to point out to them that Draco was going to as well, and Susan Bones sat on his knee and attempted to take his tonsils out with her tongue.

Which was distasteful to say the least, not only because Susan was a girl, but also because she'd been snacking on the various tid bits that were on platters on each of the tables. Something that had garlic or onion in them.

By the time he pushed her off him, he was ready to gag and he saw, with no slight amusement, that Draco was furious.

"Sorry, Harry, but I've always wanted to do that," she said, slurring her words slightly, making it obvious she'd been drinking.

"Erm, all right, just please don't do it again," he said, straightening his tie.

That set the scene for more women to try to kiss him. It took all his cunning and a couple of subtle 'notice me not' charms to evade them all. Which was mortifying because he was at Neville's party and he was gay for God's sake! A friendly peck on the cheek was all well and good and he accepted those, but after the second girl who promised just a peck on the cheek and had then promptly gripped his face and snogged him on the lips instead, he refused any more kisses.

And with three hundred people in attendance, he refused a lot. And not only women. Of course, he knew that none of them wanted him. After the first couple of times, when it was clear that they just wanted to snog Harry Potter, the rest just thought it fun to see Harry squirm and try and dodge them. It became a game after a while. Who could catch Harry Potter and snog him?

Inevitably, Draco caught him and Harry just as inevitably gave up kisses for him, which prompted a fresh round of rumours not so easy to squash because of the way they were dancing together. These kisses heralded a new closeness to their relationship and there was a hint of possessiveness in the way Draco's teeth nipped at Harry's bottom lip and in the hand sliding up his back while they danced. Harry could quite happily have stood there all night swapping tender kisses that made his heart sing, but they were not alone, people were watching, and they were just friends despite how things might look. Reluctantly, Harry stopped the kisses, as apart from being very public, part of him also felt it was unfair of Draco to tease him like this. If he didn't want more than friends, why was he demanding kisses like a lover?

"Pansy told me what you did for her, Harry," Draco whispered as they danced closely.

"I didn't do anything," he said, nuzzling his nose into Draco's ear.

"Hmm, but you did. You made it possible for her to stay in her job." Draco's arm slid up around Harry's neck.

"I did?" Harry asked, clueless.

"Yes, she would have had to leave the preschool they set up in the orphanage when the funding ran out. They didn't think that their private donations would be enough to cover nursery as well as primary school, let alone Hogwarts. So, Pansy would have been the first to go. Now she doesn't have to." The words were whispered into Harry's neck and he felt the warm breath that flowed over his skin, right down to his toes.

"She would have found another job," Harry said, tightening his arm around Draco's waist as they swayed to the music, close and warm against each other's body.

"She would have been devastated to leave Jasmine," Draco said. "For some reason she's developed a strong attachment to that little miss. I think they are long lost sisters to tell the truth." Harry knew he smiled because he could feel it against the skin of his neck."

'Jasmine? Harry said, hoarsely.

"Hmm, six year old orphan. She and Pansy have become very close. Pansy would adopt her but the Ministry decreed in their wisdom that single mothers do not provide an appropriate environment in which to be bringing up a child. Isn't that the worst load of codswallop you've ever heard?"

"That's hardly fair," Harry agreed. "Pansy's not likely to get married any time soon is she? What happened to Ewan?"

"Dumped when he proved to like Pansy's charges more than he liked her."

"Oh, that's disgusting!" Harry exclaimed.

"Nothing happened and he went minus a few fingers that Pansy hexed off with a clever little hex that rejects any attempts to grow them back."

"Good for her," Harry asserted.

Draco moved like a dream in his arms. Harry was never a great dancer at the best of times but having Draco in his arms made him feel like he was dancing on air. Strange how every time they were together these days, the meetings became that much more intense. Was it because Harry was trying to win Draco over and get him to share his life and bed for the next year or was he really developing strong feelings for him?

"Speaking of Pansy, she informs me that I must insist that you keep that suit because you look entirely fuckable in it," Harry said, grinning because Pansy hadn't said that, but it was true nonetheless. "Even Hermione said you looked drop dead gorgeous."

Draco pulled back and looked up into Harry's face. "And you, what do you think?" His voice was husky and Harry had to clear his throat in case he squeaked his answer.

"I already said you looked stunning and that you should keep the suit. It looks better on you than it ever did on me." He managed to sound normal which pleased him.

Draco melted back into Harry's arms again. "Alright, just so that none of you are deprived of seeing how fucking shaggable I am."

"I think we already knew that, git," Harry said, fondly. He dropped his cheek onto Draco's head as it rested against his chest and they continued dancing in silence for a long time.

They were still dancing when the music stopped and Neville moved to the front of the orchestra and cast I Sonorus. /I It was obviously time for that part of the evening and so they stopped dancing, but Harry hung onto Draco's hand for a time.

"I just wanted to thank you all for coming. If I'd known that my wife had invited so many people, I might not have come," Neville said, his customary blush at being the center of attention still visible after all these years, even though the awkward stuttering youth was well gone.

After the amused chuckles died away, Neville went on to thank his lovely Hannah and friend Ginny for assisting with the preparations for the party. He thanked Headmistress McGonagall for the use of Hogwarts. And lastly he thanked everyone for the gifts and hoped they had a wonderful evening.

A huge cake was bought out then by a horde of house-elves and placed on a large table. It had twenty-five candles on it, lit and sparkling away while everyone sang Happy Birthday to Neville and Neville looked on pleased as punch. He blew all the candles out in one shot and then turned to Hannah and gave her the most adoring, loving look, took her in his arms and hugged her.

Harry watched with a faint longing.

There was a gentle pressure, a squeeze of his hand and he looked at Draco, who was looking pensive and very thoughtful. "I think I'll go home, now, Harry," he said, quietly.

"I'll come with you if you like, just hang on while I say goodbye," he said and turned to go and say his farewells. Draco's hand on his arm stopped him.

"No, you stay here and have fun, I – I need to be on my own for a bit."

"You all right?"

Draco nodded. "Yes, I just have some thinking to do. I'll see you in the morning."

"All right, then," Harry said. "See you later."

He watched as Draco made the rounds and said goodbye to all his friends. He was under no illusions; Draco was thinking about taking their friendship to the next stage. For a moment he wondered if he'd been a little unfair dancing so closely and being so tactile, but then Draco hadn't protested; had in fact, welcomed the contact. Harry sighed; there was nothing he could do about making Draco's decision for him; he'd just have to wait.

Ron tapped him on the shoulder and broke his contemplation. "Is he all right?"

"Yeah, I think so," Harry replied. "How'd you pull up Friday morning?"

Ron shrugged and grimaced a little. "Bit like a herd of hippogriffs doing a tap dance in my head," he said. "But once Hermione finished her lecture and gave me a hangover potion, I was fine. Could have gone to work, even. Mind you I didn't surface until almost dinner time, so it would have been entirely pointless," he finished, laughing.

"You were lucky. I was woken by Blondie banging on the door about ten," Harry laughed back. "He did the honourable thing and gave me a potion and, to be honest he did have a good reason for the ungodly hour, so I forgave him."

"Yeah, Hermione said that he'd moved in."

"Yeah," Harry replied. "He's in the spare room," he added, as if he needed to justify himself.

"Not for long if you have your way, though, I'm told," Ron said, noncommittally.

"Well, we've danced around it long enough don't you think?"

Ron shrugged. "Not my call, mate. If it's what you want then go for it."

"You don't approve though, do you?"

"It's not a matter of approving or not. I just think that it took all of us so long to get over the antagonism from our school years to be friends that you should think about it before changing things again."

"He might make me happy, Ron," Harry said quietly. "And it's not something I'd enter into lightly."

Ron looked at him, doubtfully. "I know there have always been sparks flying between you two, right from back in first year, but isn't all this for the bet you have with Hermione? I'd call that jumping in without thinking."

"Well, no it's not actually," Harry said, huffily. "It has nothing to do with the bet if you must know. We cancelled the bet, which obviously no one bothered to mention to you. This is something I want for me. For once I'm not thinking of everyone else. I'm thinking of me and if there is a chance that he'll make me happy and an even smaller chance that he wants me, then I'm not going to knock it back. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go and speak to Neville for a bit before I go home. I'll see you later."

Harry left then because if he hadn't there was a huge risk that he would let something slip. He'd calm down and apologise to Ron tomorrow but just at the moment he was annoyed that Ron always jumped to conclusions and could never see right what was in his face. Damn him.

He spoke to Neville for a few minutes then headed to the bathroom. As he exited the bathroom when he was finished, he accidentally overheard part of a conversation between Ron and Hermione. The position he was in, behind a pillar near the door to the bathroom, meant that he would be interrupting their conversation and the last thing he wanted was to speak to Ron again tonight. So, he was stuck there, listening.

"…that you'd cancelled the bet." Ron spoke in a low tone.

Hermione answered just as quietly. "What did you think when he turned up with the books?"

"I don't know! But I just accused him of not thinking about the group by jumping into a fling or whatever, with Malfoy!"

"You didn't?"

Ron must have nodded, then.

"Oh, Ron, what on earth does the group have to do with Harry and Draco?"

"I just thought that if they were only together because of the bet then when they broke up it would change things and we wouldn't be the same any more."

"How selfish can you be, Ron?"

"I just wanted him to think of us," Ron protested.

"Why? Why should he? He already takes care of all of us. You know he does. Look what he's done for me, for Draco and for Pansy tonight!"

"What's he done for Pansy?"

"Pledged the orphanage a heap of Dumbeldore's money to make sure those kids get an education. Pansy asked and he said yes, just like that."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh. Do you know what he's done for Draco?"

"I know he's moved in w-"

"And he's lent him money to start up his own lab. Bought a shop and is renting it to him free for six months. He lined up two big customers for him – the Ministry for Neville's new potion for one, Madam Pomfrey for the other."

There was silence for a while, and while Harry couldn't see them, he knew that Ron was looking down at his feet, which was something he always did when he was ashamed of himself. It was time he ducked back into the bathroom and then made a big noise about coming back out.

By the time he'd done that Ron and Hermione had moved away and he stood by the pillar for a while just thinking about what he'd heard. There was nothing inherently wrong with what he'd heard and he'd half expected that selfish aspect of Ron's to be the reason he was against him and Draco getting together. It was more the way Hermione had made him sound like some bloody saviour. Again. He had no interest in being seen as anything like that. Perhaps it was time to attempt to be a bit more anonymous. He already had a couple of things to do on Monday, neither of which he could hide indefinitely.

He caught a hold of Neville and thanked him for the party.

"It's been brilliant, Nev, thanks for inviting me," Harry said, shaking Neville's hand.

"Thanks for coming Harry and I have to say the gift of that book was incredible. I have no idea where you found it, but I really appreciate it."

"No problem," Harry smiled. "I'll let you in on a secret. It was right here, up in Trelawney's rooms. I have no idea how she ended up with it but seeing as the school inherited all her belongings when she died, Professor McGonagall let me buy it and there you have it."

Neville laughed. "Who'd have thought that she would have had such a treasure?"

"She was a surprise all around that one," Harry agreed. "Anyway, I'm off. You enjoy your night and make sure you let me know as soon as Hannah goes in to have the baby. Being godfather, I want to be involved as soon as possible after the birth. After family, of course," he added.

"Sure, Harry. You're family, too, mate," Neville grinned.

Harry said goodbye and left, taking the Floo directly home.

Three hours later, he was woken by Draco.

"Harry, wake up. Neville's firecalling. Hannah's gone into labour!"

"What?" he mumbled, barely even conscious.

"Hannah has gone to St. Mungo's to have the baby. You're going to be a godfather. Get your lazy arse up and get to the hospital."

Harry jumped out of bed, wide awake now. He was going to be a godfather? Holy shit! He pulled Draco into a fierce hug.

"I'm going to be a godfather!"

"I know, I know," Draco said, tiredly. "You go to the hospital and I'll just stay here and sleep in your bed," he said, yawning. "I'll meet you there later."

"Whatever," Harry replied, not really listening. He threw on some clothes and ran to the fire.


	9. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Not Mine

* * *

Author's Notes: Finally...

enjoy

jamie

xxxx

* * *

_There's always a price to pay for everything.  
Consequences for every choice, every action.  
Even if neither choice is palatable.  
You just need to ask yourself which consequences can you survive._

Harry Potter, October 2005 

Pacing up and down the waiting room of the hospital, Harry felt like an expectant father. Neville was in with Hannah - Harry had no desire to be there - and didn't envy Neville one little bit at having to watch Hannah in so much pain. He was quite content, if impatient, to wait with Hannah's father and Neville's gran. 

Neville kept popping his head out of the birthing room to let them know how things were going. He looked tired and worried but underneath, his cheerful self was anticipatory. He hadn't been out for a while, which Harry took to mean that things must be nearing the end of the ordeal. 

Ginny came running down the corridor, then. 

"Sorry I couldn't get here before now," she said after she'd greeted everyone. "Blaise shut the Floo off and I didn't even know until he opened it this morning and called Draco. How is everything? How's Hannah doing?"

"She's fine last we heard. Nev hasn't been out to update us in a while so I'm assuming he's a little busy." 

"Okay." Ginny sighed in relief. "I am so excited, Harry. Godmother? Me?"

Harry grinned. "I'm as astounded as you to be a godparent because Neville only asked me last night," he said. 

"Hannah asked me a few days ago," she said, sitting down on one of the chairs. "The others will probably all be along a bit later, I think Blaise was going to Floo them all and let them know." 

Harry sat down beside her. "I wonder how much longer it will be," he spoke aloud. 

Mrs. Longbottom stirred in her chair and gave him a knowing smile. "Oh, they could be a long while yet. Why, I've known things like this to go on all day. Good strong girl like Hannah Abbott though, she'll pull through, never you mind about that," she pronounced. 

Harry nodded and smiled, seeing Mr. Abbott puff out his chest a little in pride at hearing his daughter so well spoken of, especially by someone as blunt and usually abrasive as Neville's gran. 

"She is a good girl," Mr. Abbott confirmed. "I wish her mum was here to see her first grandchild," he finished, sadly.

Harry reached over and patted him on the shoulder. Hannah's mum had been killed early on in the war. "I'm sure somehow she knows and she'd be really proud," Harry said, comfortingly. 

Mr. Abbott nodded and smiled at Harry and Ginny and they all settled back to wait for news.

About an hour later Neville stuck his tired but incredibly proud looking face out the door and asked them all to come in. Harry and Ginny demurred, instead suggesting that Mr. Abbott and Mrs. Longbottom should go in first, but they were waved aside.

"I said you were family and I meant it," Neville replied, ushering them into the room. 

Hannah lay on the bed, looking exhausted but radiant and holding a tiny bundle wrapped in pink in her arms. She was looking down into the baby's face and Harry thought he'd never seen anything more ethereally beautiful than a mother looking into her newborn's face. He felt very humbled by the sheer emotion. 

Hannah looked up and smiled at them, glowing. "We'd like you all to meet Alison Rose Longbottom." 

Words could barely describe just what Harry felt when he looked at his new goddaughter's tiny face. The urge to protect was fierce; something so small needed all the protection in the world. Hot on the heels of that emotion, though, came the real regret that he was not going to see her grow up. It made him feel like a traitor, like he was going to let her down really badly, betray the trust Neville and Hannah placed in him.

Ginny rested her head on Harry's shoulder as they watched baby Alison sleep. "We'll keep a good eye on her won't we, Harry," she said. 

"We will," Harry choked. 

She looked at him with a fond smile, no doubt thinking he was overwhelmed by the moment, which he was, but not in the way she thought. 

When it was his turn to hold the baby he trembled, worried that he might drop her but he soon calmed down. He'd never held anything quite so precious in his hands and he vowed to do whatever he could to make her life as happy and as comfortable as he could, even if he wasn't here to see her grow up. 

.o0o.

Over the next few weeks, Harry spent as much time as he could with Alison. In between writing his book, helping Draco setting up the shop and begin production on Neville's potion, he slotted in a couple of appointments with Mr. Tort in order to set up a trust find for Alison that would take care of everything she could possibly need once she came of age. It worked the same way Teddy Lupin's did.

He'd also organised with Pansy an amount to bestow upon the orphanage in order that the children receive all the education that they could, and finally he wrote to Kingsley Shacklebolt and reminded him that as long as children grew up with people who loved them, it didn't matter what sort of family they grew up in. He pointed out that the Ministry didn't remove children from single parent families that were that way through choice or accident, as that would cause an outcry, so using a person's marital status to judge whether or not that person was a fit parent for adoption was immoral. Especially in the case of Pansy, who worked with children and was expected to be instrumental in moulding them through early education into being productive citizens. How was that not a double standard? 

A week later they'd had Pansy through the Floo at the shop, blubbering that the Ministry had changed their minds and she was going to be able to adopt Jasmine. Harry congratulated her and gave her a tight hug, then left her and Draco to celebrate together by spending their lunch hour shopping for the new addition. It was so rewarding to see how happy she was and he was glad that Jasmine was going to have a family at last, too. 

Draco had not yet reached a decision on the status of their relationship. They continued to live in the same flat, though it took some time getting used to each other's timetable and habits. Like Draco's habit of dropping towels wherever he decided to get changed that day. It was usually his bedroom but Harry often found the damp towels in the kitchen, draped over the door in the bathroom or, once, there was even a towel sitting on top of the television. It amused Harry more than annoyed him. Really, it only annoyed him that he was never there to see Draco dropping the towels but perhaps that's why Draco felt able to and, were Harry to be around, wouldn't feel comfortable. Apart from the towels, Draco was almost anally neat, insisting on performing the house cleaning tasks – with magic of course – on his own. That way, he said, he'd know they were done properly. Harry just let him go at it. 

In the food department, Draco was a better cook than Harry, which was hardly surprising, seeing that he was so much better than Harry at potions. Harry consigned himself to ensuring the laundry was done each week, as well as paying all the bills and cleaning up after Draco's cooking sprees, which always resulted in something excellent to eat so he never complained. 

They were both so busy that neither of them bought up the status of their relationship. Harry assumed that Draco was still thinking about it and, apart from the fact that there was no physical intimacy with Draco, he was more than happy with how things were working out so far. He had no wish to push the situation, yet. There didn't seem to be any lasting tension between the two of them and, though the heady flirting of the first couple of days had died down, they were still comfortable with the occasional hug and often snuggled up together in front of the television at night. 

The Ministry attended Draco's shop and certified it legal for Potion making and selling. The fittings and all the supplies were delivered and within the space of a couple of weeks, the back room was set up as a lab and Draco had started producing Neville's and the Hogwarts Infirmary's potions. Once Draco had those underway and running smoothly, he would make potions for the shop and within another month or so Perfect Potions would be open to the public for business. Pansy was planning a grand opening party. 

Harry helped out where he could but he knew Draco was planning on hiring an assistant to serve behind the counter while he worked on producing the potions. 

So, between seeing Alison as often as he could without crowding Neville and Hannah, helping Draco, and writing his own book, the weeks sped by quickly and before he knew it August had gone and they were half way through September. 

When had time decided to speed up? 

He'd had his first appointment with the Healer, too. The potion she gave him still tasted as vile as the first time he'd taken it but if it kept masking the symptoms and let him live his life instead of exist in it, then he'd put up with worse. She asked him how he was going and he had the urge to laugh at her. Which wasn't really fair, but then since when had anything in his life been fair? 

"You know, just when things are really starting to fall into place and I'm happy and finding that I have a purpose that doesn't involve killing off a dark lord while trying not to die myself, Fate herself kicks in the door and stands there laughing her arse off because it's just a temporary reprieve," Harry said, bitterly. 

"I can understand that," she said. "I can't say I know how you feel, because I don't, but I can understand why you feel like that." 

"I'm just torn," Harry said, running his hands through his hair, probably messing it up more. "Is it normal to be so happy even though you know you're going to die?" 

"Yes, Harry. Many terminally ill patients make major changes to their lives when they find that they only have a certain amount of time left. They lose the worry about risking something, be it money, or reputation or even their lives, so they do things they'd previously not had the courage to do and many of them find it the most fulfilling time of their entire lives."

Harry looked at her, a lump forming in his throat. "But doesn't it just make it that much harder to leave them?" His voice cracked and he cleared it harshly. 

"Some feel grateful that they were given the chance to do things they never thought possible, and that helps knowing they lived as much as they could in the time they had left." 

Harry nodded. "That only makes me feel more torn. I know I'm grateful but I want to tear things apart, too, at the unfairness of it all." 

"It's all normal behaviour, Harry. Whatever you're feeling is normal in your position," the Healer said, calmly. 

Normal for his position? Harry scowled as he left the building, later. Nothing was normal about this. Normal people didn't have an alien thing growing in their heads. Normal people didn't know they only had a certain amount of time left to live. Time that was rushing past him too fast. Couldn't he stop it? Stop time, just so that he could have more of this good peaceful life he had now? A life that for all the lack of war and dark times was still exciting and damnit, fulfilling? 

But being bitter and angry wasn't going to let him enjoy this fulfilling life, which he'd vowed to do, and so by the time he arrived home, he'd left most of it behind, knowing that in private moments, the anger would still come and haunt him. 

.o0o.

"And good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to what we hope will become an annual charity Quidditch match between the Holyhead Harpies and the Chudley Cannons," Chester Chudley, the Cannons owner, announced. "It's a glorious sunny September day, perfect flying weather with no breeze..." 

Harry and Draco found their seats in the top tier of the stand, right between both sets of goals. It had to be the best viewing spot ever, Harry decided. Blaise had done well getting them all seats together and while Draco had complained about the cost of them, Harry had insisted that he would pay because he wouldn't have Draco sitting in the cheap seats while all the rest of his friends were enjoying the benefits of the better seats. Draco refused to let him but he grudgingly agreed to pay for the seats himself out of the money Harry had lent him. Apart from being a tax deduction, he would be paying that money back to Harry at some point so it was less like accepting a handout. Harry had just rolled his eyes and given in. At least Draco was here with them all. 

The introductions of the teams were being made as Harry said hi to everyone, sitting down next to Ron with Draco on the other side of him. 

They cheered with everyone else when the Harpies took to the field and Harry roared for Ginny, who showed off a little by flying over to their stand and doing a bit of a flashy loop before grinning and heading back to her team who were doing a lap of honour in formation. It looked pretty impressive, he thought, and the crowd went wild as they flew past. 

Then the Cannons flew out onto the pitch to another roar from the crowd and a big cheer from Ron as well. Ron had always supported the Cannons for as long as Harry had known him. It had only been the last few years that the Cannons had managed to win a few games and were now beginning to be seen as a threat in the League. Ron, of course, would talk underwater about the Cannons at the best of times but he was insufferable when they won. 

Usually, Harry hoped that the Cannons won, but today, especially seeing as it was a charity match, he really hoped that the Harpies were victorious. Ginny would love that. Harry thought wryly that his ears might enjoy that, too. 

"Who's everyone going for?" Harry asked down the line of his friends. 

"The general consensus seems to be Harpies," Blaise called back and almost everyone nodded, except for Ron. Hermione, who didn't like Quidditch much at the best of times, shrugged and said she didn't mind who won. 

"Well, I'm going for Ginny's team," Harry said. "Ron you should be supporting your sister,' he added. 

"I do support her!" Ron objected. "Every time she plays I hope she catches the Snitch, just when she plays the Cannons, I hope that still doesn't win them the game." 

Harry laughed. "I guess that's fair enough."

"You really think the Cannons can outplay the Harpies today, though?" asked Draco. "They seem to have taken the opportunity to field an almost second rate team. Johnson and Feldmuir are out and their replacements aren't anywhere near their level, substandard as they are at the best of times."

"Yeah, but just before you arrived they announced Paxton, the Harpies keeper, is out. She broke her arm in an accident on the way here and her replacement hasn't played for two years. That's an incredible advantage for the Cannons, regardless of having to use substitute Beaters," Ron argued. 

"True," Draco replied, thoughtfully. 

"Yeah," Ron pressed, smugly. "So the Cannons are actually playing intelligently by giving their reserves a chance to get some game practice in." 

"I think the Cannons could actually win today," Draco said, and Harry rolled his eyes and muttered something about changing sides to support who he thought was the strongest being a typical Malfoy trait. Draco elbowed him in the ribs but whatever he said was lost as the whistle to start the game sounded. 

After ten minutes, Ron's opinions seemed to be bearing out as the Cannons' Beaters were obviously not up to scratch and had a hard time hitting the Bludgers with any accuracy at all, but the Harpies' Keeper was so out of form that she couldn't save even one goal, and if not for the vicious precision of her team's Beaters they would be much further than 60 points behind. It seemed that Ginny would have to catch the Snitch before the score got too far out of hand for the Harpies to have any chance of winning. 

Harry kept only one eye on the game as it was fairly one sided. He kept his other eye out for the Snitch, hoping that Ginny would be the one to see it first. At one point, the Cannon's Seeker, Charlesworth, spotted the Snitch and took off at top speed. The crowd roared as Ginny sped after him and she chased him around the stadium, ducking and weaving, trying to pass him while he kept his eye on the golden fluttering Snitch dodging and changing direction in front of him. 

It wasn't until they both had to pull rather quickly out of a steep dive and regroup for the chase that, to the collective groans of the spectators, the Snitch disappeared. Harry's heart was in his mouth watching and part of him itched to be out there again. He watched Ginny fly and was impressed. She really could fly, and the thing that impressed him most was that she completely fearless. She withheld nothing and never had, but she seemed to have sharpened her flying tenfold since joining the Harpies. 

A minute later, Ginny spotted the Snitch.

"Look," Harry shouted. "She's seen it again!"

This time Charlesworth was chasing Ginny as well as the Snitch as she had a good head start on him. The Snitch appeared as tricky as ever and kept changing course but Ginny steadfastly followed it. The sun blocked Harry's view for a moment and when he could see again, he saw Ginny reaching and leaning forward, arm outstretched toward the gold winged ball and getting closer and closer. 

Probably from years of playing Quidditch himself and having an almost sixth sense about some things, he caught from the corner of his eye something heading directly toward Ginny. In perhaps the most accidentally accurate hit of the day by the stand-in Beaters, one of them had hit a Bludger to the place where Ginny was heading. 

Harry barely had time to yell an impotent warning, as no one could have heard him, anyway, when the Bludger connected with the back of Ginny's neck, the loud crack clearly audible above the noise of the crowd. To the horror of the spectators it propelled her off the front of her broom and she flew through the air and crashed into one of the stadium's pillars before dropping twenty feet to the ground. 

Amidst the gasps and cries of the crowd, Harry watched as she fell, his heart in his mouth. He heard Blaise call out Ginny's name but couldn't take his eyes off the scene to make sure he was all right. Ginny hadn't moved from the fall. Harry hoped she was just knocked unconscious but it didn't look good. Her teammates sped down to her side and knelt by her until the medical team arrived. 

Harry took the chance to check and see how Blaise was. He looked gray with anguish. Ron was white as a sheet and every freckle stood out in stark contrast. Hermione was holding his hand in both of hers and, by the look of her white knuckles she was probably crushing them. 

When he looked back, the medical team had rolled Ginny onto her back but she hadn't woken yet. They levitated her and began to move her off the pitch. The announcer called the game abandoned due to injury and the crowd began a clapping tribute to Ginny as she was taken away. 

Blaise and Ron both edged past to the aisle. "We'll go and see if we can find out how she is," Ron said, the worry written all over his face. 

"Want me to come?" Harry asked, just as worried. 

Blaise shook his head. "They probably won't let you in. We'll meet you at St. Mungo's if you like. Even if she's woken up when we get down there, I'll be taking her there to get checked out." Harry could see that he was trying to keep calm. 

"Alright, we'll meet you there, then," Harry said, looking to the others for confirmation. They all nodded. He turned back to Ron and Blaise. "She'll be all right, she's a fighter." 

They both nodded and took off down to the club change rooms. 

The rest of them packed up their things and made arrangements to get to St. Mungo's. 

.o0o.

Two hours later and they were still in the waiting room.

Ron and Blaise had traveled with Ginny to the hospital but had been told to wait with the rest of them, so the only news they had was what they'd been told back at the stadium. And that was that Ginny was unconscious and they were worried about her spine. 

A Healer had been out to see them once and advised them that they would be doing lots of tests to ascertain the extent of the damage but they shouldn't expect anything concrete for a few hours. 

Harry looked around at all his friends. Seamus was there, his ever-handy quill and parchment packed away, the outcome of this too private for him to include in a gossip column. The headline reporters would report the facts of the situation but Seamus would never profit from his friends' misfortune. 

Neville and Hannah had arrived after Harry called them. They'd bought the baby with them and that had at least eased a little tension when people cooed over her. They were now sitting quietly at one end of the room, Hannah nursing Alison. And it was so quiet that you could hear her faint contented gurgling as she drank. 

Luna and Daphne were also here, sitting closely together, Luna's hand tracing circles on Daphne's thigh. When they'd arrived Luna had asked if anyone minded if she sung a song her mother used to sing to her when she was little and worried about something. No one had minded and for a while they'd been treated to Luna's untrained but bright and clear voice singing a sweet tune. But her voice had tired and she was now quiet. 

Pansy and Hermione were either side of Ron and Blaise. Hermione gripped Ron's hand tightly and Pansy had her head on Blaise's shoulder. Hermione was biting her lip and looking worried, as if she suddenly felt the need to do some research and find out for herself that everything was being done for Ginny that could possibly be done. It was one of the reasons Harry didn't want to tell Hermione that he had an inoperable tumour in his head; she'd spend the rest of the time he had left by researching and then feeling guilty she hadn't been able to find a cure or anything to help him. None of this was her fault and he'd not have her feeling one ounce of guilt. Not one. 

Molly and Arthur were also sitting together, arms around each other. Bill and Fleur had arrived but Charlie and Davis were overseas chasing a new dragon breed. George and Percy shut the shop and were pacing up and down the room. Harry could never quite get over how Percy just stepped back into his family and replaced Fred in George's life. They'd always made fun of 'prefect' Percy and how pompous he was, but he loved his family and in many aspects of George's life, Percy was now his partner. 

And then there was Draco, curled up against Harry's side, warm and real. And just as worried as the rest of them. 

This was his family, he thought proudly. 

"I wish they'd just tell us what's going on," Pansy said, exasperated. 

"They will when they know anything," Hermione said in a voice that indicated that she didn't think that this was good enough either. 

"She will be all right," Luna said, her lilting voice still husky from the singing.

"Bah, I'm going crazy just sitting here," Pansy moaned, sitting up properly and stretching. She stood up. "Seamus, want to come and get some drinks for everyone? I'm sure we could all use some coffee." 

Seamus nodded and stood. "All right. May as well, I need to stretch my legs anyway," he said. "Who's up for coffee?" 

Several people nodded and they headed off down the corridor in search of coffee. 

Harry thought the quiet was what was getting to him to most. Luna began her soft singing again as if she'd read his mind and that helped a bit, but the tension of waiting and worrying pervaded everything. 

Occasionally one of them would attempt to start a conversation to lighten the mood; keep their minds off what was happening, but after a few words it would die out and the quiet would take over again. Blaise was becoming quite agitated and almost threw the coffee Seamus handed him away before virtually collapsing in on himself, his face crumpling in anguish. 

"Bugger this," Draco exploded, standing up and tossing his cup into the rubbish bin. "It's been four bloody hours. None of us can stand it anymore. I'm off to find a bloody Healer who will tell us what the fuck is going on." 

It was testament to how worried everyone was that no one tried to stop him. Even Hermione, who was the most rule abiding of them, merely bit her lip and nodded.

As he set off down the corridor, though, a young Healer appeared from the emergency room, obviously looking for Blaise as he made his way directly towards him. Draco quickly returned and they all stood, moving closer, Hermione supporting Blaise on one side and Ron on the other.

"Mr. Zabini. We've done what we can to stabilise your wife. I won't withhold the truth from you; it was touch and go for a while." The young Healer looked exhausted but his eyes smiled in triumph at defeating Death one more time. Harry was impressed. "The Bludger she took impacted on her neck. It almost severed her spinal cord and did damage a number of the nerves along it." 

Harry could head Molly quietly gasping. Arthur held her while she wept quietly, still listening to the Healer. 

"The impact of the fall only exacerbated matters. She has a number of broken ribs, one of which pierced her left lung. There was also a broken ankle, wrist and her pelvis was also fractured. We've healed all the broken bones and cuts and abrasions, of course, and the lung has healed nicely."

"What about her back?" Ron asked. "Have you healed that?"

The Healer took a deep breath. "This is where the bad news comes in. The broken bones in her back have been healed, yes, but we are unsure of how the nerves will recover. There is some sign that she has regained movement in her arms and upper body, but as for her legs, we're just not sure at the moment if she will recover full use of them."

Harry dropped his head. How awful for Ginny if she lost the use of her legs. Vibrant, beautiful Ginny who was as much at home in the sky flying like the winds of Hell, as she was on the ground. He felt Draco at his side, taking hold of his hand and squeezing it and he was grateful for the support. Molly was sobbing openly now and Luna and Daphne were holding each other. 

The stricken looks on all their faces; the pallor of George and Percy, Bill's scars standing out in stark contrast to the rest of his pale face, Arthur looking like he'd been hit with a shovel in the back of the head. They were all completely devastated. 

But Blaise surprised them all by drawing a deep shaky breath and gathering himself. "Can we see her?" he asked and Harry was surprised by how confident and in control he sounded.

The Healer looked around at all of them. "I'm not sure about all at once. Just family, perhaps." 

Blaise didn't falter. "They're all family. If she's awake she'll want us all there," he said. 

The Healer just sighed and nodded. "She's awake, I'll just ask that you don't get her too upset; her recovery will take a while as her injuries aren't things that can be cured by an overnight stay and a dose of Skele-gro or a few spells and potions." 

"We'll behave," Blaise said and headed directly off to Ginny's room, hanging on to Hermione's hand tightly, as the rest followed him. 

Ginny was awake as they all crowded into the small room. She smiled wanly as Blaise rushed to her side, hugged her gently and kissed her lips. "You're not slacking off there old girl, are you?" he asked, attempting a smile, but the telltale tremble in his voice gave the lie. 

"Yeah, I just want all the attention," Ginny replied, a brave smile on her face, but her eyes were filled with so many tears that they shone like pools in the moonlight. 

Molly let out a soft whimper and Arthur shushed her quietly. 

It was really very awkward as no one knew exactly what to say and it felt like one wrong word and they would all just break down. Everyone made a move forward to greet her with a kiss but no one else was prepared to hug her in case they did something wrong and caused more damage. It was like tiptoeing around a sick frail bird, Harry thought.

Seeing Ginny bed bound and in danger of never walking again created strong emotions in Harry and the longer he looked at her the harder it was to stay in the room. He just couldn't imagine her not being able to run around after Bill's kids or her own one day. Not being able to watch her take over the sky when she flew. Or that combative stance when something pissed her off; the one where she stood with her hands on her hips and glared at you; daring you to say one more word to push her over the edge. 

The conversation desultorily flowed around him but he couldn't concentrate. All he could see was Ginny incapacitated by this for life. He looked around at his friends and saw the attempted light heartedness, them trying to be brave and not show Ginny how worried they were. But he saw their eyes, the pain that crinkled the corners of their eyebrows and laced the fine lines around their eyes. Their eyes showed him just how badly they were affected by Ginny's accident and the possible prognosis. 

Imagine if she was dying? They all loved Ginny and they all loved Harry equally as much, of that he was sure, so imagine how things would be if he told them…

He shook himself internally and blinked back the sudden tears that smarted in his eyes. Seamus was speaking.

"Gin, what will you want to tell the reporters? There was a load of them at the game and they will want to know what's happened."

Ginny looked resigned to the fact that her recovery was going to be public. She frowned. "I don't want them to know too much, like about the nerve damage. Everything else they can know about. And tell them that I will be taking a few months off to recover from the shock and to rebuild my strength." The she looked almost fearfully to Blaise. "That will be all right won't it?" 

He nodded. "If you don't want the public to know all your personal details then don't tell them. What you have said is enough for them, I agree."

Seamus nodded. "With your permission then, I'll go and tell them now and, perhaps advise the medical team not to comment at all?"

Blaise nodded. "Good thinking and I'll pass on the information to the team manager when I leave here."

"I can do that," Percy offered, and both he and Seamus left the room. 

"Have they talked about when you can go home?" Hermione asked. 

Ginny shook her head. "But I don't think it will be for a couple of weeks anyway, they want me to be as immobile as possible while the nerves heal." A frown of pain crossed her face. "As much as they're going to heal, anyway." 

All the while, Blaise sat by her bed, holding her hand and trying to be strong. Harry could see the determined set to his face, grey with worry though it was. 

"They'll heal, just you wait and see," Harry said. "In the meantime, anything you need, you just ask." He moved beside her and took her free hand in his. "You're a fighter, Gin, you're my girl and your nerves will get better. I'm positive." 

Ginny gave Harry's hand a squeeze and she smiled, a positive smile. "Yes, we'll make sure of it." 

Slowly, smiles began to replace the frowns and worry lines but, still, in their eyes, Harry could see the anguish and the pity. 

Then George called out to Ron. "Hey, Ronniekins, those Cannons…ready to give up on them yet?"

Ron answered with, "Soon as I write those two a Howler that will make Mum's sound like love letters." Everyone laughed at that and relaxed a little bit more. 

.o0o.

It wasn't until they arrived home a few hours later that Harry broke. 

When they walked in the door, Draco headed to the kitchen to make tea and Harry sank onto the couch, hanging his head in his hands and began to shake. He didn't think the shock had really hit him until now. Of course in an abstract way he felt awful that Ginny might not walk again and listening to the list of other injuries she sustained had numbed the reaction. It had all been too much to take in but now he was away from the immediate grieving of everyone close to her, the accident kept replaying in his head. 

Again and again he saw how the Bludger surprised her, heard the crack, watched in horror as she fell and could do nothing to stop it. He'd never really thought about bad accidents in Quidditch before now. At Hogwarts, he'd always had Professor Dumbledore and even Professor Snape there to do something to save him and in professional Quidditch, the teams were so good that accidents rarely happened. It was the incompetence and inexperience of the Beaters that had caused the accident, he was sure. 

Draco returned with a hot cup of tea and handed it to him, sitting down opposite him and watching him thoughtfully. Harry accepted the cup, though he didn't drink it. 

"What if she never walks again?" he asked Draco quietly. "How will she cope with that?"

"She'll find a way, she's a strong girl," he said. 

Harry nodded, and pushed the thoughts of the accident from his mind. Or tried to. He kept seeing her crumpled form on the ground and shuddering at the sight. 

"She'll have her family there and Blaise will make sure he does everything he can to help her recovery," Draco added. 

"And she'll have me, too," Harry stated. 

He caught Draco's pained look, but ignored it. 

"She's married, you know," Draco said sharply. 

Harry started. "What do you mean by that statement?"

"Well, it's rather obvious you still have some strong feelings for her." Draco was trying to sound casual, but failed miserably.

"Where do you get that from?" Harry asked bewildered. 

"The way you've reacted to this. You're acting like she died." 

Harry sat back and sipped his tea, too stunned by the assumption Draco had made to even think of a response. After a long moment, he looked back at Draco.

"I don't know where you got that idea from, but she's one of my best friends and she almost died. That's all. I'd be reacting the same way if it were Hermione or Ron or you," he said. 

It was the truth. But he'd be lying if he didn't admit that part of his strong reaction was how he saw everyone else reacting to the bad news and thinking that they'd be the same or worse if he told them all his news. 

"There are no residual feelings left for her at all, then?" Draco asked, coolly. 

"None, no, why? Are you jealous?" It had suddenly occurred to Harry that perhaps Draco could be. 

"Of course not," Draco scoffed, but it was unconvincing. 

Harry stared at him for the longest time while he sipped his tea. Every so often Draco would look back at him and each time he'd blush lightly and shy away from holding eye contact, a cross look on his face. 

"You don't have to be, you know." Harry said softly. 

"I don't have to be what?" Draco asked obtusely. 

"You don't have to be jealous."

"I never said I was." Draco replied, chin lifted slightly into the air. 

"No, you didn't, but it's written all over your face and in your body language." Harry finished his tea and set the cup down on the table. "I haven't been interested in a woman for over five years. In a general fashion, I haven't been attracted to anyone since I went out with Ginny. Until we became friends." 

Draco looked past him; grey eyes lost in thought. After a while he sighed and nodded, bringing his gaze back to Harry. 

"If I am going to be jealous of everyone you care about, it must mean I want you as more than a friend, Harry, and that means that we have to give it a real shot, or else my jealousy will destroy the friendship anyway, right?" He appeared calm and collected but Harry could see the underlying tension in his eyes. 

"Is that what you want?" Harry hardly dared to ask the question.

"It must be. Jealousy was eating me up. I saw you in that room holding her hand and kissing her and the way you looked at her…I know she was injured and in a bad way…" he stopped and shook his head. 

Harry's heart was in his mouth. "Be very, very sure this is what you want, Draco because I won't cope well if you suddenly change your mind in a week." He was aware his voice had a slight vibration of emotion there but he was too focused on Draco and his answer to pay it attention. 

For an answer Draco placed his tea on the table, stood and moved toward Harry, straddling his lap. He cupped Harry's face with his two hands and leant in, kissing him thoroughly. Harry closed his eyes and relaxed into the kiss, letting Draco dictate the pace, while he satisfied himself with sliding his arms round Draco's waist and holding on. 

"I think that answers your question," Draco murmured against his lips as they broke for air. Harry nodded, his chest too full to speak. He rested his forehead on Draco's, tired, but elated.

"Come on, Harry, bed. We can talk about this in the morning but we've had a traumatic day and we should rest."

"You'll come with me. To sleep, I mean?" Harry asked and Draco nodded, smiling. "If you think you're going to keep me out of your bed now, Potter, you have another think coming. No, I'm going to sleep every night with you wrapped around me like a blanket. And I'll be demanding and bitchy if I don't get my way and you'll love every second of it. But tonight, I just want to sleep in your arms and face tomorrow and tomorrow's battles when we have to. Tonight, I want you to rest."

Harry couldn't think of anything more wonderful than spending the night wrapped around Draco like a blanket. 


	10. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Not Mine.

* * *

Author's Notes: Hopefully you'll like this chapter. It earns the higher rating, this time. Make sure you're of age to read this chapter, thanks.

Enjoy

jamie

xxxx

* * *

Chapter 9.

_I__t was a really odd thing to get used to having friends when I arrived at Hogwarts. Suddenly everything wasn't a solitary event, and I had to remember that. Add that to the fact that I had absolutely no idea what I was doing and I'm sure I must have seemed a bit vague at times. Understandable, I guess, because anything new takes practice. Getting it right is the biggest buzz. _

____

_Harry Potter, December, 2005_

Waking up in a bed with someone else was a new experience for Harry, and waking with blond hair in his face and a warm back against his chest was somehow comforting, but waking up to the owner of that blond hair and the warm back subtly moving his arse against Harry's morning erection was something incredible.

Harry's arms tightened around Draco and he flexed his hips forward, pushing his erection in between Draco's arse cheeks. It was a snug fit and Harry suddenly had a glorious notion of what it would be like to bury himself deep inside Draco.

"Good morning." Draco's sleepy rumble was deep and husky and accompanied by a hip roll that caused Harry's cock to rub the length of Draco's crack.

"Hmm, I'll say it is," Harry purred, pressing his lips to the back of Draco's neck.

Draco laughed softly and reached back with his arm to cradle Harry's head and Harry's mouth slid across warm sleepy skin beneath Draco's ear. "I could get used to this, Harry. Touch me, please?"

He really didn't need to be asked but he smiled and slid his hand down between Draco's legs to the damp heat of his erection, dragging a muted moan from him as his fingers closed around the hardness.

He'd only seen Draco naked once before and as it had been late when they'd come to bed last night, he'd been too tired to look. It seemed unimportant though, the dreamy newly awakened touching stimulated his senses enough. Draco's warm musky smell surrounded his nose as he buried it in the mussed blond hair and the arching and slow seductive movements of Draco's lithe body against his was going to ensure that his morning erection would be taken care of very quickly.

They seemed to find a compatible pace, Harry rocking his hips forward along Draco's crack and stroking his cock timing well with Draco's sinuous encouragement. Before long, soft moans and tiny gasps of pleasure filled the room and Harry found himself needing to go faster, harder, and things began to spiral as he felt Draco tense in his arms, then let go and pulse hot come all over his hand with a loud exclamation of "Yes!"

The hand in his hair gripped convulsively as Draco came and it pushed Harry to bite down hard on Draco's neck and come thrusting deeply between Draco's cheeks. He hung on tightly while he finished, breathing heavily.

After a few moments, Draco's hand slid down to cover the one that was on his cock and they both slowly stroked the softening appendage. Draco made little sated noises of pleasure and Harry smiled at the intimacy of Draco showing Harry what he liked.

"You like being stroked after coming?" Harry asked in a whisper in Draco's ear.

"Hmm. It's sensitive and offers almost painful pleasure, just enough to bring me back down," Draco replied, slowing the strokes down until they stopped. He half turned and looked at Harry, smiling. "If you plan to wake me like that every morning, I might never leave."

"Hey, you woke me, rubbing that sexy arse against me." Harry teased. "And if you plan to do that every morning, I might never let you leave."

"Keep me here against my will, will you? Kinky bastard." Draco joked.

"Might even tie you to the bed," Harry said, nibbling on Draco's neck and playing along.

"Promises, promises." Draco laughed back. "I'll buy the rope then."

"You serious?" Harry asked.

"Why not?" Draco replied, rolling over in Harry's arms and kissing his cheek. "I trust you to untie me when I ask and it's a bit naughty being tied down and unable to move so you can do whatever you want with me."

"Have you done it before?" Harry asked, curious.

Draco shook his head. "Not really, no. I had one wrist tied to a bed post once but wasn't game enough to go for both. Probably an indication I didn't quite trust my partner."

"Hmm…" Harry thought for a moment. The thought of Draco tied and not able to run away was intriguing. The sight of him stretched out on the bed, open for Harry to do whatever he wanted to him even more so. If he wasn't careful, he'd be hard again in a flash. "So, ropes then, or would cuffs be better?"

"Fluffy ones so they don't hurt?" Draco smirked back, a twinkle of laughter in his eyes.

Harry laughed. "Well, I'll let you choose, seeing as I've never done anything like that before."

"All right," Draco said, leaning in and kissing him quickly on the lips. "Now, no more kissing, you have morning breath."

"As do you," Harry parried.

"I do not!" Draco said huffily. "I'll have you know that Malfoys do not have morning breath. Not ever."

Harry pinched his bum, his very tight bum if the mounds of flesh in his hands meant anything, and rolled over to climb out of bed. "You believe what you want, Draco," he said laughing.

Draco reached over and swatted his arse, at which point Harry yelped and turned, diving back on Draco, tickling him mercilessly. Draco squealed and tried to fight back, but Harry was too big and in no time he had Draco laughing helplessly, crying for mercy.

"I give up, I give up," Draco yelled.

"Good," Harry said, stopping and kissing him instead. "I'm going to have a shower and then check how Ginny's doing. See if Blaise needs anything, too. Want to come with me?"

Draco shook his head. "You go shower and I'll make us breakfast then we can both talk to Blaise," he said.

He would have liked to shower with Draco, but there were other things more important than fooling about right now. Their days were busy enough as it was, and they needed to make sure they ate when they could. Draco was right, they should have breakfast. With everything happening, who knew when they'd get to eat again, today?

"All right," he agreed reluctantly as he rolled out of bed. He picked up some boxers and walked through to the bathroom, acutely aware that Draco was watching him and not minding one bit.

.o0o.

Half an hour later, breakfast was on the table and they were both preparing to eat. An owl tapped on the window with _The Daily Prophet_ and Harry let it in, fed it some owl treats before paying it and let it fly off.

"The accident is front page news," Harry said, reading the headlines as he sat down again. "At least Seamus managed to keep the full extent of her injuries out of it."

"He's a half decent bloke," Draco admitted. "For a Gryffindor." Harry looked up at him, knowing that he didn't mean it in anything other than a gently teasing way.

"He looks after us," Harry agreed. "Like the time we were all asked to leave that strip club because Ron drank too much and thought one of them looked like Hermione." Which had actually been rather hilarious. Ron had become all protective and climbed up on stage with his coat and tried to cover the girl up, saying that she was a good girl and she should be home with her family. In the end the security had thrown them all out because Ron had become belligerent while drunk and fought back when pushed back into his seat. There had been a number of other patrons there that had recognized them and Seamus had managed to stop the embarrassing story for Ron's sake more than anything.

"I know," Draco agreed, "I just like winding you up."

"Prat," Harry said, narrowing his eyes. The he returned to the paper. "They say she'll be back by the start of the season," he said. "Isn't that just after Christmas?"

"Yeah, I doubt she'll be ready by then," Draco said. "Even if she does recover full use of her legs."

Harry felt a pain sharpen itself across his chest and he winced. "She will recover fully," he said, determined.

"I think she will, too," Draco agreed, "but we have to face the reality that it might take a long time."

"But it could be next week, too," Harry stressed.

"Yes, it could be. I suppose I'm just used to being realistic about things I want. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to –"

Harry shook his head, "No, it's all right, I understand. You're right."

There was little talk then as they ate their breakfast, mainly discussion about what else was in the paper and plans for the day. Mostly, they depended on what Ginny and Blaise needed, but Draco mentioned that he did have to get to the shop for a while to organise the final touches for the Grand Opening in a week's time.

After breakfast they called Blaise through the Floo but he wasn't there. The house-elf told Harry that Blaise was still at the hospital. Harry and Draco looked at each other.

"We'll have to see if we can get him to come back here for a rest tonight," Draco said.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, he's not going to be doing her any good if he collapses."

They Flooed to St. Mungo's and walked the corridors to Ginny's room, where they found her awake and eating breakfast with Blaise sitting tiredly by her bedside.

"Hello, Gin," Harry said, smiling to see her up and looking alert. He nodded at Blaise, too, noticing how exhausted he looked.

"Harry! Draco!" she called, grinning and holding out her arms for a hug, even if it was a bit stiffly.

Harry went to her and hugged her and Draco followed soon after.

"How are you feeling this morning?" Draco asked Ginny.

"Much better than yesterday," she said, drinking some orange juice that was on her tray for breakfast. "Yesterday I think the shock of the fall and all the potions they gave me played havoc with my coping skills," she went on. "The nurse told me that this morning when she gave me my medication," she continued. "I'm sure that as soon as they let me out of here and I can begin my rehabilitation that I'll recover so quickly, they'll never even realise I've missed training," she said, obviously referring to her teammates.

Harry and Draco looked at each other, confused, then Harry turned to Blaise who shrugged and inclined his head as if to say, "I'll tell you outside."

Nodding, he turned back to Ginny. "That's great news, Gin. Can Draco or I get you anything?"

"No, they look after me pretty well here, Harry and I guess that it doesn't hurt that I'm a little bit famous, does it?" she giggled. "They fall all over themselves to make sure I'm comfortable," she said. "About ten of them have been in asking for autographs. Blaise chases them away. My hero." She looked at him lovingly and reached out to caress his face. He just smiled, tiredly.

They let Ginny prattle on, but it was very obvious that her medication had some seriously amusing side effects. After about ten minutes, a nurse entered to take some details and do some diagnostic spells on Ginny. Blaise motioned for them both to come outside the room.

"What's wrong with her?" Draco asked. "She's beginning to sound like Luna."

Harry thumped his arm playfully. Blaise gave a short laugh.

"The medication they gave her for the pain seems to have made her act like she's been on some sort of illegal substance. They say it will wear off, but all she does is talk." Blaise laughed, but Harry could see that he was so tired.

"Why don't you go home and sleep and I'll stay here with her," he said. Blaise shook his head, but Harry interrupted. "You're no good to her so exhausted you can't function. Go home, shower and sleep for a few hours and then come back here refreshed."

"I'll take him, Harry," Draco said when Blaise finally nodded. Harry kissed him and they left. Harry returned to Ginny's room, prepared to spend the next few hours listening to Ginny talk.

.o0o.

By the time he arrived home, Draco was at the shop, Blaise had returned to the hospital and the flat was silent. Harry grinned to himself, thinking he never again thought he'd be grateful for silence. With an afternoon to himself, the quiet would be perfect for working on his book some more and concentrating on that might take his mind off worrying about Ginny, too.

Hours later, he was frowning at the screen, having been trying, and not succeeding, to find the right words to describe how being down in the Chamber of Secrets had felt; only knowing Ginny was in danger and completely ignorant of what he'd have to endure to rescue her. All these years later, he could still remember the fear; he just had no words to describe it.

"Harry, I'm home."

Harry quickly saved his work and shut down his computer just as Draco walked into the room.

"You look like you've had a hard afternoon," Draco said, walking over to Harry and kissing his forehead.

"Just stuck on the wording of something," Harry replied, standing up. "You smell like you've been brewing Pepper-Up or something."

"I have been." Draco's eyes were gleaming and there was a predatory glint to them. "Do you know what the fumes of that potion do to me?"

Harry shook his head, not saying anything, though he had a pretty good idea as Draco's heightened breathing and his eyes relayed plenty of meaning.

Draco moved closer to Harry, who stepped backwards instinctively. "It makes me incredibly horny, Harry." Another step closer and Harry's own breathing increased as the adrenaline rushed unchecked through his body.

"And what do you expect me to do about it?" Harry teased, though he bunched a hand in Draco's shirt, pulling him along as he stepped back towards the bedroom.

Draco's placed his own hand on Harry's chest and began pushing him towards the bedroom quicker, eyes darkened now and voice husky. "I don't expect you to anything but lay there and let me ride that glorious cock of yours."

Harry decided he could live with that and rapidly pulled Draco into the bedroom with him, his body already responding in the appropriate manner and making the divesting of clothes a matter of urgency. He would have liked to spend time slowly undressing Draco this first time but there appeared to be no time for that and the sight of Draco sitting on him, straddling him and grinding his arse against Harry's cock was enough compensation. More than enough.

Draco was hard, leaking pre come and looking down at Harry as if he wanted to devour him. "Where's your lube, Harry?"

"Top drawer," Harry moaned, sliding his hands up along Draco's thighs to the creases at the tops of his legs, where his thumbs ran over smooth skin and brushing wiry pubic hair occasionally.

Harry had held this body in his arms while they both came this morning, so he knew the sight of Draco above him, moving his body, arching and rocking would make him catch his breath but the reality of it was so much more sensual and immediate.

Draco fingering himself to stretch his hole wide and willing set totally lecherous desperation carousing through Harry and he could barely wait to slather his cock with lube and have that gorgeous body riding him. But he watched and he waited because this was their first time and he wanted to savour it a little; desperation and lust notwithstanding.

When Draco was ready and Harry's aching erection well lubricated, Draco placed both hands on Harry's chest and lifted himself while Harry tried to line up his cock with Draco's entrance. He supposed as they got used to each other that this would become easier but, right now, he was irritatingly close but just could not manage to get the right spot as one or the other of them kept slipping.

He could see Draco's arms trembling, his body shaking lightly and hear the frustrated noises, as he was obviously impatient to have Harry fill him. "Come on, Harry," he pleaded, shakily.

"I'm trying." Harry used both hands then, one to hold his cock and the other to hold Draco steady when he found the right place, then he pushed upwards a little and finally the head of his cock pressed through the tight ring of muscle.

Draco let out a strangled scream and dropped unceremoniously all the way onto Harry's cock. "Thank fucking God," he moaned and immediately began to lift himself again.

Fuck," Harry groaned. "Are you ready for this?" Draco was so tight it almost hurt.

"I've been ready for fucking hours… Fuck me, please?"

Harry growled as he was engulfed in tight, tight heat, his hands moving to grip Draco's hips helping to lift him, then pull him back down as his hips snapped upwards. Draco screeched and for a moment he thought that he hadn't been stretched enough and he was hurting him but then he began chanting, "Yes…" and "Harder…" and Harry decided that Draco knew his own body best, so he bent his knees, braced his legs so as to get maximum thrust and fucked Draco brutally, gripping onto his hips tightly.

The loud slap as their skin met was joined by grunts and moans and increasingly less coherent mumblings from Draco as sweat poured off their bodies with the exertion. Harry's arousal flared every time he was buried as deep inside Draco as he could be. And watching as Draco's head dropped back exposing that lovely neck made him shiver but what made his heart sing and his balls contract ready for orgasm was the moment Draco's head drooped loosely onto his chest in utter exhaustion. Harry's spirit soared knowing he'd been the one to have this effect on Draco and he slowed his thrusts while he took Draco's badly leaking cock in his hand and stroked in time with each push deep inside. The touch seemed to revive Draco somewhat and he moaned and began thrusting into Harry's hand while riding his cock.

Before he even had time to appreciate that Draco was coming hotly in powerful spasms all over his hand and chest, his own orgasm hit him and he yelled his completion, jubilant.

Draco collapsed onto Harry's chest the moment he was finished and he lay there panting. Harry, also breathing heavily, wrapped his arms around Draco and held on.

"Christ, are you going to be making this potion often?" Harry asked when he had enough breath back.

"I fucking hope so." Draco laughed breathlessly.

.o0o.

A week later, Draco's shop opened. It was a fancy event; Pansy having invited just about everyone they knew and most of the medical staff at St. Mungo's as well.

Draco had been working hard on preparing his potions and the shelves looked bright and colourful with their lines of vibrant hues. Cleverly, Draco kept all the ugly looking potions on shelves in a small room just behind the counter. In this way, he said, people felt a lift when they walked into the shop, not like they had to hold their breaths until they could get back out into the fresh air.

He'd hired an assistant, Charles, a youth probably just out of Hogwarts. He had his NEWT in Potions, a modicum of talent and he could tend prepared potions, or in other words, ensure they didn't overcook. Draco was quite impressed.

Harry wasn't so sure. Charles was too sycophantic for his tastes; he hung on every word Draco said, with this look of utter adoration or hero worship on his face. And he tried too hard to get Draco's attention, often interrupting their discussions with some trivial matter.

And he didn't like Harry being in the shop; that much was clear, as he made snide remarks about how interrupting Draco while he was working could cause accidents.

Of course Draco laughed him off when he raised the subject.

"Oh, Harry don't be silly, he's a _child_. What would I do with one of those?"

"I'm more concerned about what he wants to do with you," Harry retorted.

"Are you jealous, Harry?" Draco asked, pleased.

"Aren't I allowed to be?"

"It's rather cute, actually," Draco said, advancing on Harry with a predatory air.

"It is?" Harry smirked and retreated a few steps.

"Hmm, rather hot if you want my opinion."

"Well, then let me say that if he so much as looks at you like he wants to devour you one more time I'm going to hex his bits off." Harry growled, deliberately provoking Draco who, predictably, jumped on him.

Harry did like that aspect of things.

.o0o.

Harry and Draco spent hours at Ginny's bedside, both in the hospital and when she was allowed to go home. Blaise had set the house up for her so that she could be at the center of the house while still bed bound, and had organised a sort of wheel chair for her to get around the house with later on as she began to recover feeling in her limbs.

Harry often stayed and helped Ginny with her exercises that were designed to keep her muscles from withering too much and to try and encourage the resumption of nerve function and movement. During those times, Ginny often confided in him that she felt she wasn't going to get any better. He hated seeing her despondent and depressed about her condition, still sure that it was only going to be temporary. He kept trying to reassure her and she thanked him, but she had the look about her that said she'd really already given up and she was only going through the motions of the exercises to keep Blaise and the medical staff happy.

As soon as Blaise walked through the door, her whole demeanor changed and she became the Ginny she thought everyone wanted her to be. In a way Harry felt privileged to be trusted enough to be shown how Ginny really felt, but at the same time it left him in a dilemma, because Ginny was giving him indications that she needed professional help; that she needed more help than the extent of his ability to be a supportive friend could offer. He had no idea how to deal with someone sinking into a depression like that. The only experience he had to measure it against was the short time after he was told of his own illness. It wasn't really comparable though. Learning to live with a disability – if that's what she was going to have – entailed numerous different adjustment strategies than learning how to accept death.

The fact that Ginny was keeping all this from Blaise meant she was scared of his reaction – afraid of having to see the pity in his face – same as the way Harry felt about telling his friends about his illness. The fact that she was keeping Harry up to date on her true state of mind meant that whether she consciously acknowledged it or not, she wanted help.

And after a week where he couldn't even rouse Ginny to complete her exercises, he knew that it was time to step in and do something about it, despite his misgivings about the consequences were he to be found out. He had a rudimentary plan and although he wished Ginny would talk to Blaise about it, he knew she wouldn't.

As luck would have it he was meeting Seamus for a drink that evening before heading off to be fitted for robes for Ron and Hermione's wedding. Even though that wasn't for another month, Hermione, in her usual methodical manner, would have every single thing planned and organised to within an inch of its life weeks before the date. Ron had told Harry that as best man he was supposed to host the stag night which, according to Hermione, was going to be a few drinks with a few mates three nights before the wedding.

Harry was just as happy to do that. Of course, what happened there and what Hermione didn't know happened there were two completely different things. And all the better if Ron didn't know what was going to happen, either. There would be no lasting harm done. Not really.

When Harry walked into the bar, he immediately saw Seamus sitting at one end with a pint of Guinness in front of him. He smiled at him and made his way through the after work crowd and sat beside him ordering a beer from the barman.

"How's things, Seamus?" he asked the sandy haired Irishman.

"I'll get by," he said. Harry frowned. This wasn't like Seamus, who was usually a fairly optimistic person.

"You don't sound too sure of that," Harry ventured, dropping some money on the bar and thanking the barman with a nod when he placed his drink in front of him.

"I'm not," Seamus replied, shortly. "I might be looking for a new job soon," he said.

"How come? You love working at the Prophet."

Seamus turned and looked at Harry. "I used to. They were really great about me being friends with you and the others. You're all heroes and there's …you, for God's sake. You're me mate and all and when I started I told them I wouldn't be printing gossip and personal stuff about any of you."

Harry nodded. It was one of the reasons Seamus loved his job, because the pressure wasn't on him to reveal personal knowledge about any of them. It gave any comments that Seamus did report about them more weight, because everyone knew they'd be accurate. He wondered, though, if they'd all taken that for granted a bit too much. Other newspapers didn't hold the same restraint that Seamus did and there had been gossip about him and Draco for weeks now, although no one had confirmed anything.

"And, so what's changed?" Harry asked.

Seamus sighed. "They know the statements issued by the Harpies about Ginny, aren't true. They know I know the truth and they want me to print it." He hung his head almost into his beer. "I can't do it, Harry. Ginny is having a hard enough time of this as it is, she doesn't need what this news would stir up."

Harry took a long pull on his beer and patted Seamus' shoulder. "Have you spoken to her about it?" he asked.

Seamus shook his head. "I couldn't. You know as well as I do that if she knew it were me job on the line she'd agree to let me tell it."

"So, instead you'll leave a job you love?"

"Me friends mean more to me than me job," he said. "How would any of you ever trust me again if I did that?"

He had a point; Harry had to admit that. It might not start off like that, but bit-by-bit Seamus would be left out of things, not told something important, not entrusted with the same secrets as the rest of them and little by little he'd be isolated.

"What will you do?" he asked Seamus.

Seamus shrugged. "I have no idea. They haven't fired me yet, they're just threatening."

Harry watched as Seamus downed the rest of his Guinness with a sense of sadness. What Seamus needed now was a distraction. Which, Harry thought, might work in more ways than one. Perhaps if he could give Seamus another big scoop then they might leave off him long enough for Ginny to recover and then it probably wouldn't matter. And what better distraction than confirmation of all those rumours and an interview with the two guys involved? He'd have to speak to Draco about it of course, but along with getting all those rumours out of the way, it would also be some decent publicity for the shop.

"Seamus, mate, I think I might have the perfect solution," Harry grinned and clapped Seamus on the back. He drained the rest of his drink and tried to ignore the truly pathetic look of hope Seamus had in his eyes. He didn't want to raise his hopes too much in case Draco said no. He looked at his watch; damn he had to get to the robe fitting. "I'll Floo you later tonight, all right?" he said.

"What is this perfect solution?" Seamus tried, but Harry shook his head.

"I need to check something first, but I'll let you know tonight or in the morning. Don't do anything silly like resign before then, all right?"

"Okay," Seamus said, doubtfully. "If you can save me job, Harry, I'd be extremely grateful."

Harry would do his best. Seamus was protecting the secrets of all of them; he deserved to have his job protected, too. He didn't deserve to lose his livelihood just because of who his friends were.

After the fitting, at which Harry decided that Hermione knew what she was on about because Ron was going to look positively debonair in his new robes, Harry hurried off to Mario's to pick up some take away food for dinner. He hadn't been back since his birthday and he felt rather guilty about that.

"Harry, you're looking wonderful," Mario said, greeting him with an effusive hug. "Did you find your young man, then?"

"Yes, Mario, I think I did," Harry said smiling back. "How are you? How are Vanessa and the kids?"

"They are well, they are well, Harry, but tell me what you been doing all this time you cannot find the time to come and see me?"

Harry caught the affectionate rebuke in his words.

"I'm sorry, Mario; there's just been so much happening in my life that it's hard to keep up sometimes. I'm busier now than when I actually had a job." Harry laughed.

"Come, come sit down and tell me all about it," Mario demanded. "I have your pasta cooking and Julian can pack it for you while we talk."

Mario knew that Harry was a wizard but none of the other staff did. Harry didn't feel comfortable telling them all, but he didn't mind Mario knowing, even though it was still against the law to divulge that information to Muggles.

So, Harry sat with Mario for a while, chatting. He heard how Vanessa had a big argument with her mother and they hadn't spoken for three weeks. Mario said that it was making Vanessa realise how much influence her mother had over their lives and how she liked being in more control. Harry nodded, understanding how much having some control could mean. The business was going really well and Janet was seeing a nice boy who took good care of her. This bloke must really be a good guy if Mario approved, Harry thought, with a smile.

He told Mario a bit about his friends and how Hermione and Ron were getting married soon, how Ginny had had an accident and was recovering but had still not regained the use of her legs. Mario was extremely saddened by that.

"Such a pretty girl. She was the redhead, yes?" he asked, and Harry smiled as he nodded. Mario had a reputation for his prodigious memory for people's names. Ones that had been in his restaurant in any case. Mario patted his arm. "She is the firebrand, she will overcome her injury, you will see. Now, tell me of your young man."

So Harry told him all about Draco. Mario of course had noticed that they spent some time together the night of Harry's party and was pleased that Harry had found someone. He gave Harry a few shrewd looks, which made him uncomfortable.

"He makes you happy, this Draco?" Mario asked.

Harry nodded, smiling. "We seem to fit together. We're friends first, but there's always been this intensity about us when we're together. It feels a bit like a natural progression."

"Good, good." Mario nodded as Julian came out with Harry's package of pasta. "Oh, Julian, make up another two servings of the Carbonara," he ordered. Then he turned to Harry. "You take the pasta back for your Ginny, yes? Tell her Mario said to hurry up and come back to see me and make an old man smile."

Harry almost laughed. Mario was only thirty-five. But he understood the sentiments.

"Hi, Julian, how's everything?" Harry asked.

"Good, Harry. Good to see you back here. No hangers on this time? No loony birds?" Julian laughed as did Harry because even Muggles called Luna loony. Not that she was, just eccentric.

"No, not this time, just come for some food for Draco and myself for dinner," Harry replied.

"That the blond that could hardly keep his eyes off you that night?" Julian teased.

Harry blushed. "Yeah, that's him," he said.

"Oh, ho, this is serious then?" Julian questioned, eyes gleaming.

"Nah," Harry protested, "We're mostly just friends, but I do like him."

"Well, it's great to see you looking happy," Julian said. "When you came in here for your birthday, you looked worried about something." He tilted his head to one side. "Now…you look more content."

Harry was a little surprised, although he shouldn't be. Julian had been waiting at this restaurant for as long as Harry had been coming here and knew him fairly well. The night of his birthday he'd been grappling with his disease for only a few days and was still reeling from the news. No wonder he'd looked worried. In fact, looking back on it now, it was a wonder that he'd looked so normal. Still, ironically, he was happy now. And what was weird; he was content, if, in the back of his mind pissed off that one day, and one day soon, it was all going to end.

"I am." He smiled.

Julian went off to make up another order of pasta for Ginny and Blaise, and Mario continued to tell Harry his family's news. How Vanessa's great Aunt Josephine had recently died and left her entire estate to her precious Pekingese dog and now the sisters were arguing over who got to look after the yappy rat. They both laughed because Harry knew full well that the sisters had detested the dog while Great Aunt Josephine had still been alive. He wondered how long the poor dog had left. Harry laughed even louder when Mario confided that Great Aunt Josephine had only kept the dog because she knew it annoyed the sisters so much. Great Aunt Josephine would be laughing herself silly seeing the squabbling sisters.

When Julian arrived back with the pasta, Harry hugged both Mario and Julian and thanked them profusely, leaving with promises to bring Draco back soon for a meal. He Apparated directly to Ginny's and checked up on her, leaving the piping hot fresh pasta with her. She wasn't much improved since the last time he'd seen her, though Blaise was with her and so she was making an effort, he could see. And she did smile a genuine smile when he relayed Mario's best wishes and demand that she come for a meal.

It reminded him that he hadn't asked Seamus if he knew of a Healer that worked with both rehabilitating the body and the psychological aspects of illness. Ginny wasn't going to accept that she needed some professional help with anything other than her physical situation, so having a healer that combined both, where one could be a subtle counseling type situation might work best. It was a fairly new field, Harry knew that and Seamus would have the contacts to be able to find out whom he should contact. Then he'd give the name to Blaise and explain what had been going on and leave the decision up to him. If he knew Blaise at all, he'd be a bit Slytherin about it and use the Healer without Ginny's knowledge and then confront her with it after she was better.

By the time he arrived home, Draco was rummaging through the fridge in order to find something to cook for dinner.

"Hi, honey, I'm home," he joked and Draco didn't turn round but stuck a rude finger up at him behind his back.

"Thought you were going to be home to cook dinner," Draco grouched.

Harry placed the trays of pasta down on the table. He'd cast warming charms on them so they were still hot. "I stopped at Mario's and had him cook up some of that pasta with the special original sauce that you loved," he said.

There was a muffled groan as Draco turned and leant on the door of the fridge. "If you're joking, I will kill you," he said.

"Not joking," Harry said, pointing to the trays. "Get a couple of plates and some forks and we can eat right now," he said. "As soon as I get some wine."

"God, Harry, I knew there was a reason I was shagging you." Draco groaned again and hurriedly collected plates and cutlery and sat down at the table.

"Seeing as I do the shagging in this family, I don't see that as a valid argument." Harry grinned, grabbing a half finished bottle of wine from last night out of the fridge and a couple of glasses from the cupboard. He sat down pouring the wine for both of them, while Draco made delighted noises dishing up the pasta.

"How is Mario, anyway?" Draco asked.

"He's good. He caught me up on all his family gossip and I caught him up on what's been happening in my life," Harry said, smiling. "He said that I have to take you back there for a meal soon."

"Sounds good, especially if I get to eat more of this pasta," Draco said. "I might have to leave you for him, Potter," Draco joked, putting a forkful of pasta in his mouth and making the most erotic little noises. Something to let smolder until they finished eating, he thought, suppressing a small moan of his own.

"Married and straight, Draco," Harry said, knowing full well that Draco was only kidding around, appreciating the good pasta.

"Dammit," he pouted.

"He made some for Ginny and Blaise, too," Harry said. "I told him what happened to her."

"He knows you're a wizard?" Draco choked. "How did you get away with telling a Muggle?"

"I don't think anyone knows I've told him. He's certainly not going to tell anyone else and it makes me feel more comfortable talking to him knowing I don't have to alter what I say or be afraid I'll let something slip."

"And he's not going to run off to the Daily Prophet is he?" Draco said, nodding.

"True," Harry nodded. That was uncomfortably close to what he wanted to talk about but he wasn't sure if he wanted to right now. They'd not actually spoken about whether or not they'd make their relationship public or if they'd be happy to just not deny it in future if anyone asked, so he had no real idea how amenable Draco would be to his suggestion.

As for himself, he still really hated being in the papers all the time; that part hadn't changed. What had changed, though, was the desire to have what did appear in the paper, what was put up for the public consumption, to actually be true. He'd come to the uneasy realisation early on – about fourth year - that the papers were going to write about him whether he wanted it or not, so he'd much rather that they print the truth.

These rumours about himself and Draco were not actually untrue so they hadn't bothered him that much and he figured that if they gave the scoop of confirming their relationship to Seamus then there'd be a flurry of interest and then it would go back to a low murmur of background rabble that he could pay no attention to.

Plus it would distract Seamus' employers from Ginny's situation. For a while.

"Have you thought about whether or not you want to make some sort of public announcement about us," Harry asked. "You must get tired of the rumours in the paper and such."

Draco took another mouthful of pasta while he looked and Harry, obviously thinking while he chewed. After he swallowed, he nodded. "I have and I'd like to. After the shop opening there were other rumours too, you know. That I have cast a spell on you, that I seduced you into sleeping with me so that I could get you to set me up in the shop. Basically, that I'm using you."

Harry frowned. He had heard those but dismissed them because they were so blatantly untrue that they didn't even warrant his attention. He supposed that he'd always had to deal with negative publicity and was able to ignore the more outrageous stories but Draco obviously hadn't and wasn't. Maybe in the past the stories about the Malfoy's had all had a grain of truth in them. He was silly not to have seen it from Draco's point of view before now.

"I want to, too," he said. "I'm sorry, I never realised that those stupid stories in the paper would hurt you. I've become so used to people printing lies about me, I forget."

Draco held up his fork, waving it in dismissal. "Don't worry Harry, they don't hurt, they're just wrong and I think they might affect the shop adversely that's all. And I do have a loan to repay," he smiled.

Harry nodded. "I think it will be good publicity for the shop, too." He took a mouthful of wine, savoring it and swallowing it before he continued. "I saw Seamus today. His bosses are on his back about reporting the truth about Ginny's condition."

"What?" Draco said, consternation on his face. "God that would kill her. Finnegan isn't going to is he?"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "But he said that they'll fire him if he doesn't."

"Those bastards," Draco growled. "What's he going to do? Speak to Ginny?"

"No. He said she'd agree to let him tell if he asked but that's not fair on her and he won't throw over friends for a job."

Draco sighed and put down his fork. "You think if we give him the story of us being in a relationship and maybe an interview that will get them off his back?"

"My thoughts exactly." Harry nodded.

"I think that's a great idea. And by the time they come after him again, Ginny will be recovered. Hopefully."

"I knew there was a reason I was shagging you," Harry smiled, and then laughed at Draco's expression.

"Well it's because of my looks of course,' he said.

"Oh no, Draco," Harry replied, arousal flaring again. "It's because we think alike."

"We think nothing alike, Potter," Draco said, affronted.

"I beg to differ," Harry said. He put his fork down on his plate, stood up from the table and moved around to where Draco was sitting. "You finished with your pasta?" he asked, voice low and seductive.

Draco smirked, looking up at Harry while he very deliberately placed his fork down on the table.

"See?" Harry smirked right back. "We do think alike. Right now you're wondering if the table can stand the pounding."

"I am?"

"You are. And you're wondering how long I'm just going to stand here waiting for you to remove your trousers, before I give in and rip them from you."

"If I wasn't I am now," Draco said, throatily. "What do you plan to do with me once I've been divested of my lower garments?"

"I think you know the answer to that," Harry said

"Back to wondering if the table will stand the pounding, I see," Draco said, pushing himself up from the table and reaching for his belt.

Harry smiled and reached for him, hooking his fingers in Draco's belt and pulling him flush against his body, taking his lips into a deep kiss.

.o0o.

The next day, Harry firecalled Seamus and asked him to drop around that evening for dinner. Seamus sounded down in the dumps and looked disappointed when Harry didn't mention anything about a solution. Harry wanted to, but would rather wait and see him in person.

After dinner was finished and they'd moved back into the lounge with cake and coffee, Harry approached Seamus about his other question.

"Seamus, could you do me a favour, no questions asked?"

"It's nothing illegal is it?" he enquired, only half serious.

Harry shook his head. "No, nothing like that, I'm just after the name of a Healer. I've read about the new field of combining psychological as well as physical rehabilitation, but I have no idea how to go about finding anyone competent. I thought with your contacts you'd be able to get me a name."

Seamus thought for a while and Draco looked on quietly. Harry had briefed him with the information earlier. He'd felt a little guilty talking about Ginny without her permission, but this was like an intervention of sorts so people had to know.

"This is for Ginny, isn't it?" Seamus asked, looking between them both.

After a quick glance at Draco, Harry nodded. "I'm loathe to ask, what with all the trouble you're having at work lately, but I wasn't sure who to ask. I know the paper has done a few articles on it and I figured you'd know the…"

Seamus interrupted him. "I get how it works, Harry and of course I'll ask Henry. I'll let you know tomorrow." He drank his coffee and placed the cup down on the table. He was a little agitated and Harry could see he was itching to ask what Harry's idea was and if it was going to work, but didn't want to sound too desperate. Perhaps Harry should just ask him and put Seamus out of his misery.

"Thanks." He looked over to Draco again and smiled at him. He really was beautiful. Harry cleared his throat. "Seamus, Draco and I were thinking that what you need is a distraction; something to take the focus off Ginny and her injury for a while. Until she gets better."

"So we want you to be the one to make an official announcement that we're together," Draco said, smirking. "Do you think that an interview and photograph of the Wizarding world's two most eligible bachelors taking themselves off the market is a big enough distraction?"

Harry could barely remember a time when he'd ever seen Seamus lost for words, but there must be a first time for everything because Seamus was sitting on the couch with a forkful of cake half way to his mouth, which was hanging open. There was a look of horror in his eyes. Or maybe it was just shock.

"You… I… You want me to do it?" he finally stammered out.

"Well, if you can be a little more articulate than spouting gibberish, then yes, we would never even consider giving the story to anyone else," Draco said.

"You're our friend Seamus and you keep all our secrets and you deserve this scoop," Harry said.

"Maybe you should either eat that mouthful or put it back on your plate," Draco said, eyeing the morsel of cake that was wavering dangerously on Seamus' fork and looked like it might fall on the carpet.

Seamus blinked and looked at his fork then dropped it back on his plate. "Sorry," he breathed, and took several more deep breaths. "A real interview as well, not just me breaking the news and making what amounts to be the next rumour?"

"Never," Harry replied. "You'll have the truth, from us both, in an interview." As much of the truth as I am prepared to give you, he added silently.

"I can't believe this," Seamus said, beaming. "I…thank you. Did you want to do it now or another day?"

"Well it's not too late, really, so if you don't have anywhere else to go, we can do it now," Harry said, looking at Draco for confirmation. Draco inclined his head in agreement.

Seamus seemed to snap into gear then and whipped out his notepad and a pen.

Seeing how Seamus' face changed when the tension was released made Harry feel wonderful. There was someone else he'd managed to help. Maybe he should make a list, he thought before discarding that just as quickly. Making a list would make it appear that he needed to chronicle his good deeds, as if holding them in reserve as favours he could call in, or a way to keep check of how many times he'd helped out. God, that was sick, he thought grimacing.

Draco caught the look and gave him a questioning one. "Are you saying that I have no taste, Potter?" Draco asked, narrowing his eyes. Obviously, Harry had missed something Draco said. He'd better pay closer attention.

"No, no, sorry I was thinking of something else. You have perfect taste, carry on." Harry chuckled at Draco's look.

For the next three hours they talked about a lot of things in the interview. A few of them uncomfortable – like how they'd grown past the school boy rivalry and antagonistic feelings they had for each other. Harry was on the verge of stopping, when Seamus showed his skill in the interview and mentioned that if they did this now, then the question would have been asked by someone they trust, in their own environment and they could take their time to answer, rather than have it being thrown out of the blue while they were in company or somewhere they couldn't escape the scrutiny.

Harry reluctantly nodded and continued to answer all the questions. By the time Seamus went home completely ecstatic about his good fortune, Harry and Draco were both mentally drained and they could only manage to move the dishes into the kitchen, set a cleaning charm on them and fall into bed.


	11. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Not Mine.

* * *

Author's Notes: Can I just say thank you to everyone who has ever commented on this story of mine. They're all so appreciated you have no idea! hearts you all

Also, I adore Draco in this chapter. I really, really, do.

enjoy

jamie

xxxx

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Chapter 11

_I never questioned why, in fourth year, Ron was the thing I would miss the most. At that stage, he, along with Hermione, would have run pretty much about even. I suppose Hermione held, and still does hold a special placein my heart because she was the first person we saved. We. Ron and I. Of course it was his fault she was anywhere near that troll in the first place, but Ron was my very first friend. That is incredibly meaningful, now I look back on it._

_Harry Potter, December, 2005._

By the time Harry was finally able to read the newspaper the next day, he'd already had to fend off hundreds of owls bearing the opinions of the public on his relationship with Draco. There were of course numerous Howlers but Draco had a very nifty spell that made those explode before they had the chance to yell and so that took care of that.

The rest of them ranged between sound support and entreaties to get himself to St. Mungo's to be checked for dangerous spells. Together they laughed about all the messages, good and bad, and admired the picture of them that adorned the front page. Draco thought it looked perfect and it did, really. Harry was standing behind Draco with his arms wrapped around him and they were both smiling at each other and at the camera. Draco had this incredibly smug smile on his face when he looked at the camera, and Harry couldn't help but put that as the cause for the pleas to get himself checked for spells. Draco looked like the proverbial cat that ate the canary.

"I'm going to ask Seamus for a copy of this," Harry said, suddenly finding it hard to control his emotions. It was the first photograph they had together as a couple. It made Harry wish that there was a way he could take this photograph with him but then, if there really was an afterlife, he would have his memories anyway.

Draco moved to stand behind him, resting his chin on Harry's shoulder. "Our first picture together," he said, echoing Harry's thoughts. "Finnegan knows his work. We look hot."

Trust Draco to make him smile again and forget the blackness coming to meet him. Harry laughed. "We do," he agreed.

"The Wizarding world's two most eligible bachelors are off the market," Draco said.

"Ah, no wonder there are so many Howlers," Harry complained. "They're all lamenting the fact that the sexy blond Malfoy lad is taken. With a capital 'T'." Harry grinned smugly, his momentary emotional wobble pushed firmly away.

"And by none other than the Chosen One," Draco drawled back, arching a smug eyebrow at Harry. "Finnegan could have thought of a better heading than 'The Chosen One Chooses', though."

"Never mind, the rest of the article is very favourable to us both. The shop should get a lot of publicity out of this story. You should be pleased."

"Oh, I am. Extremely pleased. So pleased in fact that I'm going to demand _the_ Chosen One take _his_ chosen one back to bed and make damned sure said chosen one really knows he's been chosen."

Harry looked bemused for a fraction of a second while all that sank in and then he laughed and lifted Draco over his shoulder and carried him through to the bedroom to do just that, while Draco took the opportunity to grope Harry's arse as he walked.

.o0o.

Seamus had also given Harry the name of a Healer that had begun his career dealing with mental illnesses, specialising in the ability to detect the truth in claims by Death Eaters who said they'd been subjected to _Imperius._ Apparently, eventually sickened at the harsh treatment handed out to prisoners, he moved to healing the physical needs of patients but incorporated some psychological treatment as well to produce a much better, healthier outcome.

Blaise had been most upset when Harry told him about Ginny's true state of mind and it had needed Harry to share his memories via a Pensieve before Blaise would believe him. Then he was devastated that Ginny had wanted to keep that from him.

"I think under it all she really wants help, Blaise, or she wouldn't have let me see her like that," Harry said, trying to comfort him.

"But why keep it from me?" he asked Harry.

"I suspect she feels safe letting me know because I've already seen her at her lowest back in her first year at Hogwarts. And…well, since you've been together, Ginny is the one who's kind of been the strong one; the one who earns the income and provides the home for both of you and my guess is that she doesn't want to be seen as less than that in your eyes."

"How could she ever think I'd think less of her?" Blaise responded aghast.

Harry shrugged. "I can understand that, though. But telling me is a cry for help. I helped her last time, I think she wants help again but doesn't know how to ask for it."

Blaise clutched the card Harry had given him, with the name and contact details of the Healer on it. "I'll give it a go, Harry. It can't hurt can it?"

"True," Harry agreed. "Any progress is better than where she is at now. How's the physical side of things coming?"

"Not much change," Blaise replied. "She's doing all the exercises but says that apart from the odd tingling in her toes, there's no change."

"Don't give up," Harry said, slapping Blaise on the shoulder.

In the days and weeks that followed, Blaise kept Harry up to date with Ginny's progress and it seemed things really were turning around. Blaise said that the Healer had appealed to Ginny's fiery temper. Made her see that she'd be parading herself around in public at her brother's wedding in a chair unless she got off her arse and moved.

The Healer suffered one of Ginny's famous Bat-Bogey hexes for his trouble, but it had done the trick and Ginny seemed to have recovered most of her determination and drive and realised how low she'd let herself get. She had decided that there was no way known that she was going to be Hermione's bridesmaid while she was in a chair. She'd walk down the aisle or nothing.

Harry was hoping that she'd be ready; the wedding was in two weeks.

Since the article in the paper, there had been a marked increase in the number of customers at _Perfect Potions._ In the beginning, most had come to have a look at the latest conquest of the Boy Who Lived and, surprised at the cheeriness of the shop, pleased that the young man behind the counter was polite and helpful and there was not a sneer in sight nor a reminder of how much better than everyone else the Malfoys were, they tried the potions on display.

And they came back.

Draco was overjoyed at the response. Harry wasn't surprised in the slightest. He knew how skilled Draco was and now the general public was getting to know that as well. Some made a point of telling Charles that they still despised Draco but he made good potions so they kept coming back as they assumed that the Ministry was keeping a close eye on things. Charles, himself from a decent pureblood family, earnt his money then, and some grudging admiration from Harry when he loudly defended Draco and steadfastly refused to be drawn into arguments, instead reiterating that Draco was a wonderful boss to work for and if they wanted to continue to harangue him then they could leave. That seemed to earn the customers admiration as well, because they'd promptly close their mouths and continue with their purchases.

Whilst they were in the process of setting up, Pansy had come along, ostensibly to help but young Jasmine, now her adopted daughter, had been such a handful that they barely achieved anything that day. As a consequence, Draco had sectioned off a part of the shop and set it up as a play area for children. He used safety cauldrons, ingredients that in no way could combine with each other to make anything dangerous and utensils that had been designed for safe child use.

'The Corner' as it was dubbed, had become an instant hit with mothers. They could leave their children in there while they browsed the shelves, looking for the right potion. As an added bonus, Draco had positioned a small table and a few chairs right next to The Corner so that the mothers could watch their children and indulge themselves in a cup of tea or coffee while they were having specialised potions made up.

Even though Charles had earned some modicum of respect from Harry, he still felt like the young man needed a good swift kick up the backside. It was the way he looked at Draco – full of avarice. It was greed and desire all at the same time. Charles wanted Draco and all he could offer him. Of course, they had not told Charles of their private financial arrangements, so as far as Charles was aware, Draco had 'money' of his own.

Harry wished Draco would fire him but he understood he was good at his job and Draco needed him. For now. But Charles Frobisher made Harry frown. He was not oblivious to the fact that Charles took every opportunity to point out to Harry how often Draco worked late and how closely they worked together. He couldn't fail to notice how Charles felt it was all right to brush against Draco's arm when he passed or touch his elbow when he was responding to something Draco said to him, or how he unfailingly leant very close to Draco every time Draco said something that made him laugh.

The worst part was that Draco encouraged him. No matter that Harry told him it was unfair unless he intended to follow through on it, Draco insisted that Charles worked that much harder for him than he would do if Draco rejected him, so he sustained this crush Charles had on him.

Therefore, Harry tended to stay away from the shop as much as he could while Charles was there. His time was fairly well utilised keeping up with Alison and checking in on Ginny – and listening to her rant about the new Healer, saying she really hated him – and continuing with his book. He was surprised at himself and the details he remembered from all those years ago. His story had reached fourth year now and whilst it wasn't a novel in any way, shape or form, it was his own words and that alone gave it an authority that other books, even more detailed ones, just wouldn't have and couldn't even aim for.

And then, of course, there was organising Ron's stag night. Seeing as he was best man. Hermione insisted that they just have a few drinks and they would. Ron would rather have gone to a pub or a bar, so they would be having a few drinks in a Muggle bar. Somewhere that had a show. A strip show. George was the main instigator of this choice, insisting that a stag night wasn't real unless there were strippers. Harry was a little dubious as he had no desire to see lots of naked or near naked women, but he acquiesced and organised the twelve of them to go to _Knockers_, and he would suffer Hermione's wrath at some later stage.

Everyone was meeting at Harry and Draco's flat – for appearances - and they began arriving shortly after 7 o'clock. Ground rules had been set down early. George was banned from carrying any Weasley products on his person, or anyone else's, while they were in the club. Much as he grumbled about that rule, he accepted it, as he knew that when inebriated he tended to forget about being surrounded by Muggles and let off a lot of Weasley trick products indiscriminately.

Seamus was under strict instructions to only drink beer as spirits made him behave oddly. He was also under the 'no telling' rule. Whatever happened on the night stayed out of the paper.

Percy was not allowed to mention work even once. For every time he talked of work he was to down a glass of beer. No one thought that Bill or Charlie needed instructions on how to behave, but Charlie said that Davis, his boyfriend, was on a tight rein as far as how much he had to drink because he tended to get a little affectionate with whomever he was standing next to. Arthur looked upon all the rules and regulations with interest.

Harry took it upon himself to be the one to keep Ron out of trouble and Draco decided to oversee everyone with an air of being above all the base behaviour. Neville and Blaise rarely drank in any case and neither of them was looking to have a late night, as Neville had his family to return home to and Blaise didn't want to leave Ginny on her own for too long.

The evening was progressing well with everyone enjoying themselves and Harry thought that they might make it home a little under the weather but none the worse for it – apart from a few sore heads the next morning.

Unfortunately, somehow Seamus managed to chat up the barmaid with his Irish brogue and she bought him a couple of drinks. And they weren't beer, either. Two shots weren't enough to make Seamus pass out; but they were enough to make him effusively drunk.

Harry groaned and knew he'd have to slow his own drinking down in order to take care of Seamus. Between Draco and himself they should be able to manage.

Besides, the show was starting and Seamus did have an eye for the pretty girls. Not that Harry found the show interesting in anything more than an aesthetic way, but the girls were attractive, he supposed.

Seamus thought they were in any case.

"Oh, me darlin'," Seamus slurred, waving a couple of twenty pound notes at the girl. "Come dansh over here for ush. Me and me mates, 'Arry 'n' Draco."

Harry was hoping that the girl would ignore Seamus because he was drunk but she took one look at Seamus' friends and came right on over, especially seeing as Seamus was holding up a lot more money than he'd thought.

The girl had long dark hair that fell like a curtain down her back. Her bare back. She had one item of clothing left on and that was a slip of material for underwear that revealed as much as it showed, Harry thought.

He risked a glimpse at Draco, who was regarding the girl with cool disinterest. When he turned back to the girl she was on her knees in front of the three of them, swaying her hips while Seamus tucked the money under the string of her underwear. All their friends were cheering and clapping and egging them on from behind.

The she turned and bent over on all fours spreading her legs and rolling her hips suggestively. Harry was almost embarrassed for the girl and he blushed. Seamus was on the verge of drooling but he turned to say something to Harry, or to slur something to him anyway, and he stopped, obviously noticing Harry's blush, and narrowed his eyes.

"Oi, Harry, mate, and wouldn't yer be feelin' like yer in the wrong place, now?" Seamus said, surprisingly coherent when his Irish brogue was obvious. He threw his arm around Harry's shoulder.

"Nah, it's alright, Seamus," Harry assured him.

"But there'd be four of yer 'ere an' there should be some entertainment ta suit yer tastes."

"Seamus, relax," Harry said, giving the girl who'd come to dance for them a look and finding, thankfully, that she'd already moved on to someone else.

Seamus shook his head in the deliberately controlled way of the inebriated and then in a sudden move that Harry swore he should not be able to do in his state, jumped up on stage and began to strip.

"You boys'd be after some male flesh to watch, an' las' time I looked I be all male."

Harry was so stunned he didn't react immediately. Neither did anyone else. Ron was pissing himself laughing, as were Charlie and Davis. Most everyone else merely looked on amused and even Draco was giving Seamus an appraising look.

Harry tried to get him to stop, thinking that the security guards would throw them all out, but Seamus ignored him and gave up on the buttons of his shirt and ripped it off over his head, flinging the shirt out into the crowd to the cheers, jeers and catcalls of the audience.

Privately, Harry thought that security must be a bit slack, because if Seamus had been after one of the girls, she would have been waiting way too long for assistance. In this case, it was lucky, it gave Harry time to try and coax Seamus down. Futilely, as it turned out, as Seamus was enjoying himself so much that he refused to come down and managed to drop his trousers and his underwear to his knees before two rather large men manhandled him from the stage and out the door, pants still round his ankles.

Harry merely hung his head in his hands before gathering the rest of the laughing group and collecting Seamus on their way out.

The next morning saw many sore heads and calls for hangover potion but they all agreed firstly that it had been a fun night and secondly that no one would tell anyone about the night that hadn't been there.

Harry kicked them all out about mid afternoon and collapsed back into bed, wrapping himself around Draco and falling asleep, leaving worrying about anything until the next day.

.o0o.

Two days before the wedding, Hermione Floo called him for what he thought was the tenth time making sure he had the ring and that he would ensure Ron would be dressed and ready to go on time because it was up to her to be late, not the groom. In fact he'd just started to protest about hounding him so much, even though he knew she just wanted everything to run like clockwork, when she interrupted him.

"Harry James Potter, what is the meaning of this?" Even Draco stopped what he was doing at the tone in that voice.

Harry of course had no idea what she was talking about. And told her so.

"When I went to pay the bill for Regal Receptions, they kindly informed me that our bill had been taken care of. They were under instructions, they said, not to reveal who paid the bill so I want to know what you know about this."

Oh damn, Hermione didn't seem at all pleased. Harry frowned and bit his lip; had he insulted them by doing that? Well, shit.

"Oh, that," Harry said, quietly. "Yes, it was me. I had no idea what to give you two as a wedding present and you'd mentioned putting off buying a house for a while due to the cost of the reception and you shouldn't have to do that, so it's my wedding gift to you both. If I've insulted y--"

But he didn't get any further, as Hermione interrupted him.

"Oh, Harry," she said, sounding overcome. "Wait, we're coming through."

Harry ended the call and a couple of minutes later Hermione and Ron stepped out of the Floo and Harry had his arms full of Hermione and Ron was slapping him on the back.

"Harry, mate," Ron said. "Bloody hell." Ron seemed lost for words, too.

"Harry, that is the sweetest thing, thank you so much," Hermione said when she'd stopped strangling him. "First the books and now this, I hardly know what to say." She was in danger of letting tears slip down her cheeks.

"Don't say anything guys, just enjoy it," Harry said, chest filling with happiness to see how thrilled they were.

After they'd left, Draco wrapped him up in warm arms, kissing him deeply. "Harry Potter, philanthropist. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" Draco murmured against his lips.

Harry shrugged, preferring to go back to the kissing, thank you very much. "I'm not. I just like helping out my friends when I can," he said. "More kissing, please."

"Oh, I think we can do better than kissing, Mr. Potter." Draco smiled seductively as he grabbed Harry by the wrist and dragged him off to the bedroom.

.o0o.

Finally, the day of Ron and Hermione's wedding arrived. As was usual in England in mid December, it was cold and dreary, but that had no bearing on the day as all the guests were Apparating to the small chapel attached to the reception centre first for the service.

Harry was on top of the world. Ron was too nervous to be ecstatic about getting married and no matter how much Harry tried to calm him, Ron still periodically turned a sickly shade of green and ran for the bathroom. It was reminiscent of their days at Hogwarts when Ron became ill thinking about playing badly for the Quidditch team. Nothing had worked then, either, other than Ron thinking he'd taken a dose of _Felix Felicis_ and he certainly didn't have any of that to hand right now.

By lunch time, most of Ron's family had been through to check up on him and both Harry and Draco were ready to hex the next Weasley that called, seeing as all they managed to do was make him more nervous. Arthur called in to wish him the best and had a twenty minute conversation about how to keep a woman happy, which appeared to be 'agree with everything she says', as far as Harry could tell.

Bill wanted to give Ron advice for the wedding night, seeing as he was the only other Weasley boy married. Ron politely set him straight by assuring Bill that as he and Hermione had been living together for the last three years, he had a fair idea of what to expect. Charlie called in for no reason at all, only because his mother had told him to and was nagging him so much that he had to escape, and because Davis had hidden in the bedroom they were sleeping in while they visited and he hadn't seen hide nor hair of him for the whole day.

George tried to feed Ron some toffees that changed his hair colour but Draco was onto that and stopped Ron eating them just in the nick of time. Then he became maudlin, saying that he wished Fred could be there to see that their little Ronniekins had grown up all right after all. They'd all become a little emotional at that point, remembering Fred, until Draco bought them all tea and cake and changed the subject. Harry appreciated it.

Percy arrived and immediately complained that Harry hadn't been doing his job properly because Ron's robes hadn't been starched to within an inch of their life. Harry bristled but didn't say anything, not wanting to start an argument on Ron's big day. He needn't have worried, though, for Ron settled the argument very succinctly.

"Stuff it, Perce. I'd go spare if I had to wear robes like you do. I'll look as good as Hermione wants me to and that is that."

Draco grinned at Ron and said "Well done, Weasley,"

To which Ron replied. "You stuff it too, Ferret." But it was all in good humour. And the insulting banter was par for the course.

A few hours later, Ron and Harry were standing in the chapel waiting for Hermione and the rest of the bridal party to arrive. Harry had finally given in and made Ron take a calming draught, which Draco had laced with something to reduce the drowsiness that was normally a side effect.

When Hermione made her entrance on her father's arm, Harry's breath caught as much as Ron's did. She looked radiant and Harry felt so proud and privileged to be a part of their lives and to have such an important role in this ceremony. Ginny, walking and looking incredible, led the party down the aisle, smiling and nodding at people she knew.

Hermione only had eyes for Ron and her face was wreathed in a most serene smile; a heartfelt one that spoke of the deep love she had for the man at the end of the aisle. Harry's throat closed over a little at that thought and he swallowed hard. Hermione and Ron marrying was ending another stage in their lives and beginning a new one. They would begin that new life together and Harry would have to renegotiate his part in that new life.

For a short time.

Again, his heart ached for something that he could never have; he would miss out on being part of this new whole 'one'.

He was so intent on his inner thoughts that he almost missed the vicar asking for the ring.

After that he paid more attention; saw the love shining in their eyes, heard the commitment they made to each other and felt the hope of a new life joined together…never to be alone again. He had no doubt that those two would grow old together and die peacefully in their beds at age 150 or something, after having 6 children, who gave them 27 grandchildren 117 great grandchildren and about 95 great great grandchildren and counting. Happy for them didn't even come close to the emotions running through Harry as he watched them exchange rings and vows and be married.

He cheered along with everyone else and pulled the bride in for a hug but, as happy as he felt for them and glad to be there, as privileged as he was to have been part of the service, he still felt detached from it; as if he were watching it from a distance and not a part of it at all. Horribly it all felt like he was going through the motions, acting mechanically with no passion behind it.

"You're a million miles away, aren't you?" Draco said later at the reception.

"It's that noticeable?" he asked wryly.

"Only to me and, perhaps, Lovegood. She doesn't miss much that one."

Harry smiled. "Come and dance with me as soon as my duties are over?" He hated that there seemed to be a desperate quality to his request, but there it was. Draco merely nodded and kissed his cheek, giving his arm a squeeze at the same time.

"I'll save all my dances for you, Harry," he whispered.

Grateful for the attention, but unable to articulate it, Harry merely pulled Draco close and hugged him. The solid feel of Draco in his arms was undeniably a comfort. When he pulled back and looked into those grey eyes, he saw only caring and disquiet, which he rushed to calm, by smiling at him genuinely.

"I want all your dances, Draco," he said. "I want to monopolise the most beautiful person in the room." Because Draco really did look spectacular tonight, having lashed out some of his hard earned money for a new suit.

Draco scoffed. "I bet you say that to all the boys, Harry."

"Only the ones I'm taking home and have some chance of shagging," he joked back.

"You might want to sharpen up your seduction lines, Potter. If that's the best you can come up with then I am surprised that you weren't a virgin when we got together."

"Well, something must have worked because you sleep with me every night," Harry replied, smiling.

"Still doesn't mean you're getting shagged tonight."

"Hmm, we'll see about that," Harry murmured. He thought that he might give Draco something to think about so he leant in close to Draco's ear, so no one else could hear and whispered. "When we get home, I am going to tie you face down on the bed so that you cannot run away from me. Then I plan on spanking that hot arse of yours until it is pink and sore looking. Then I am going to shove my hard cock inside you and fuck you until I cannot move. And I can guarantee you that you will give out before I do. How will it feel to be fucked so hard that even had you the energy to move, your brain will have forgotten how to function?"

Harry was more than gratified to see that Draco's face had flushed a very attractive shade of pink.

.o0o.

There came a point in the evening, though, where Harry had to pay strict attention to his surroundings and put all his concentration on the married couple. As the best man, he was required to give a speech and toast the bride and groom. When he stood and held his glass, he turned to look at his two best friends and found that he had no words that could even come close to saying how much he wished for their happiness.

The worst thing was his emotions were threatening to overcome him and he swallowed and remembered that this was their night and it would be terribly bad form for the best man to make a scene. A memorable speech, yes, a blubbering emotional scene, no.

Gathering himself, he smiled at them both. "Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger," he started. "Now Weasley." He grinned and corrected himself, while the guests sniggered quietly. "It's the duty of the best man, apparently, to regale all Ron's friends and family with tales of misadventures and pranks and drunken silly incidents."

Ron looked at him horrified for a moment, obviously wracking his brain to remember anything mortifying that Harry might reveal.

"But I think our exploits are fairly well known and I have no desire to give his brothers any more ammunition." Harry grinned when everyone laughed at Ron's huge sigh of relief. "So, I'm just going to say that I love you both dearly. You two are my best friends and my family." Harry gave them both sincere smiles, then turned to the guests and lifted his glass. "And I'd ask everyone to be upstanding and raise your glasses." He waited for everyone to stand, then looked back at Ron and Hermione, his glass in the air. "To Ron and Hermione, may all your troubles be small and your joys numerous."

He was glad to finish that without his voice cracking, though he was sure it went a little raw there at the end. When everyone had responded with "To Ron and Hermione," he drank along with them, sitting down gratefully as Ron stood to respond.

It was while Ron was making his own speech that Harry caught Draco's eye. Draco was looking intently at him and not paying attention to what Ron was saying. Harry knew this because everyone around him laughed and Draco just kept staring. He really could get lost in those eyes, Harry thought to himself. The look was penetrating and Harry found himself wondering if Draco could see how conflicted he was; how distressed this whole wedding was making him feel, yet how joyous he was at his friends wonderful day and good fortune to have found their perfect other half.

Harry made himself look away from that scrutiny, as he needed to pay attention to Ron now, especially as he seemed to be the butt of one of Ron's tales of his early forays into gay bars. Trust Ron to bring up the fact that Harry was so anxious about going alone to a gay bar that he dragged along his straight best friend. And what was worse, said straight best friend got hit on more times than he cared to count and more times than Harry because Harry, the Chosen One, the Saviour, opted to cast a 'Notice-Me-Not' Charm on himself which rather defeated the purpose don't you think?

Harry laughed good-naturedly at that but soon enough his eyes found Draco's again. It was oddly comforting to know that in a room full of people whose attention was all on the newly weds, as it should be, that there was one person whose sole focus was himself. It felt less lonely. And wasn't that why he'd wanted to share his life with someone?

When the speeches were finally over, Ron led Hermione out onto the dance floor and the band began to play a beautiful song for the couple to dance to. Harry watched them move to the music, gazing into each other's eyes and smiling and the ache in his chest stretched.

After a short time, he took Ginny's arm and escorted her to the dance floor, joining the newly weds. Ginny was still moving slightly stiffly, but she had come such a long way in the last couple of weeks that Harry was impressed at how mobile she actually was.

"You look beautiful tonight, Gin," Harry said as he guided her around the floor. Her brilliant smile was enough for him to see that she had pulled herself out of her depression and it made him extremely happy.

"Thank you. I still get tired easily, though, so I've used a Lightening Charm," she replied, smiling. "It seems I have you to thank, Harry," she said. Harry looked perplexed.

"What do you mean?"

"Blaise told me what you did for me," she said, and Harry sighed. "Did you think he wouldn't? We have no secrets."

"But you didn't tell him how down you were, did you?"

She looked down for a moment before looking back at him with an expression that asked for understanding. "It's not that I deliberately kept it from him. It was more that…" She tilted her head to one side as if thinking how to express herself. "More that I didn't understand how I was. Sometimes you don't get to know you're depressed, if that makes sense," she said. "It wasn't something I had control over, not conscious control, but subconsciously I obviously knew what was going on, which was why I let someone know, and who better than someone who'd saved me before?"

She smiled sadly at him. "Will I ever stop needing you to save me?"

Harry almost broke at that.

Clearing his throat, he replied, "You did most of it on your own, you know. You just needed someone that understood what you were going through to give you the right motivation, that's all."

"Whatever. Thank you, Harry," she smiled as her father approached and cut in.

Harry danced with Molly and with Mrs. Granger with no further yanks to his heartstrings, before ending with Hermione.

"Have I told you today how radiant you look?" Harry smiled warmly at her.

"That tends to happen to one when one is happy," she replied as they danced. "I've seen you happier, though. What's wrong?"

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. Was he that obvious? And why was she so observant on her wedding day? "Nothing's wrong," he covered, cleverly he thought. "It's an emotional day and I'm thrilled for you and maybe a bit wistful hoping that one day it will be my wedding," he lied. He knew there would be no wedding day for him. If he was wistful about anything it was that. No, he wasn't wistful, the futile twisting _unfairness_ of it all stung him too much for wistful.

Her hand squeezed his and she smiled. "One day it will be. Who knows maybe you've found your perfect match in Draco," she said, eyes gleaming with mischief.

Harry looked around for said perfect match and found him dancing with Fleur, their blond heads standing out among the crowd. His expression softened. "Draco? Nah, he's…" Harry watched him glide around the floor gracefully, smiling and laughing at whatever Fleur said as if it were most amusing. He looked bloody amazing, Harry thought for what must surely be the hundredth time today. Draco looked over at Harry and gave him one of those dazzling smiles that held a hint of suggestion and thus was entirely private. Damn. "…Damn," he said aloud. "Maybe I have at that."

What a shocking discovery to make waltzing with one of your best friends on her wedding day! Especially seeing as he hadn't planned on his relationship with Draco being anything more than a temporary thing. He'd liked Draco, thought him damned sexy, had wanted a relationship with him, but he'd never planned on falling in love with him. Never. He couldn't.

Some of the horror must have shown on his face because Hermione moved closer and whispered. "And this is a bad thing?" she asked.

"It is when I wasn't planning on it," Harry said, vaguely.

With the optimism of the newly married, Hermione just gave him a great big satisfied smile. "But it's wonderful, Harry," she said. "Ron and I were beginning to worry that you'd never find anyone."

He just smiled weakly back at her, nodding and continuing the dance.

Now what was he going to do?

.o0o.

As soon as he could he excused himself and headed to the men's room for a breather. To give himself some time to think about this latest revelation and complication in his life.

Way back in …oh, in August… was it that long ago? Gosh time flies when you're dying, he thought cynically. Way back in August, he'd thought that it didn't matter if he fell in love because he didn't need to tell Draco, he could just continue on and bask in the emotions that he'd never thought to experience. It was quite another thing to actually be in love and know that possibly within six months you'd be dead. How the fuck did you even say goodbye to someone you loved like that? How was he supposed to give up his love when the time came that he couldn't hide his illness anymore? How was he to break up with Draco?

Maybe he should do it now, before things got too entrenched and he became too dependent on Draco being with him. But that wasn't fair either, he told a frowning self in the mirror. It was fucking traumatic enough to know he'd have to let Draco go anyway, why couldn't he enjoy being in love for whatever time he had left?

It disturbed him to see that his face had become haunted, full of his tormented thinking, and so he hid it by bowing his head over the sink and splashing cold water on his face. Momentarily immobilised by grief he stood there and let the water drip from his nose back into the sink. He watched as each drop trickled down the plughole, counted them one by one until he reached twenty-five and they stopped. It made him laugh at the irony. Twenty-five drops of water for twenty-five years of life and then it just…stops.

Just then the door opened and someone came in and walked through to the urinals. Harry gathered himself, wiping his face dry and giving his hands another wash just so he could look himself in the mirror again to make sure that his expression was as normal as it was going to get, pale though it was.

For some reason, he needed to hang on to Draco right now - as a kind of anchor to keep him from slipping into despair. Even though loving and losing him was the current cause of the despair, it was still Draco he needed right now.

He found him on the dance floor, dancing with a very pink-faced Molly Weasley. Harry smiled. If anyone had told him that one day he'd be watching Draco Malfoy dance happily with Molly Weasley, he'd have laughed. Almost as hard as if they'd told him that one day he'd be in love with the blond Slytherin that had made their lives hell through school.

But there he was dancing and smiling and here Harry was watching him, his heart rapidly threatening to take over his chest entirely. Draco caught sight of Harry and he smiled. God, he was in so much trouble. There must have been something desperate in his expression, as Draco said a few words to Molly and led her off the dance floor. Then he made his way to Harry, standing there looking into his face intently. Harry couldn't decide whether Draco was waiting for something or trying to read Harry's emotions.

In the end, Draco just held out his arms and smiled and Harry fell into them and clung, trembling like a scared child who'd lost his way and had been found again. It was fortunate that the band was still playing music slow enough to disguise their clinging as intimate swaying because Harry didn't think his body would cooperate with a tune that required him to move more than was necessary.

Not yet, anyway. The very weight of Draco's body in his arms was comforting, solid, _real_ enough to calm the paradox of the sick joke the universe was playing on him. For now, for the time he had left, _for now_ for his ever after he would hold onto this, hold to Draco and remember to live.

Draco was quiet as they swayed, seeming intuitively to know that Harry needed some time. Arms that promised Harry hope and cajoled Life back into his memory remained banded around his shoulders. Hands that retold stories to his nerve endings of the longing for passion were the balm and the cause combined.

"If you make a mess on my new suit, I'll have to move out, you know," Draco's soft yet amused voice danced at his neck, tickling his ear. Harry smiled despite himself.

"Then who'll pick up all your towels?" he replied, turning his head slightly and breathing the words under Draco's jaw. "You'll get buried under a pile of wet towels."

"I'll convince some young, pretty thing to move in with me and he can pick up all my towels. Some people think I'm gorgeous, so it shouldn't be too difficult."

Yet another reason to not let Draco go until things had gone almost their full distance; he didn't think he could bear to see Draco with anyone else. He'd never deny him his happiness, not ever, it had become the one thing he wanted most – apart from the obvious – but he didn't want to still be here when he found it again, with someone else.

Harry sighed theatrically and shifted in Draco's arms so that their chests were pressed together and their faces so close when they blinked they felt the tickle of the others eyelashes. "You win," he whispered. "No messing with your suit."

"I always win, Potter." Draco laughed, because of how ridiculously untrue that was, though if Harry could make him win at everything from now on and forever then he would.

Harry smiled into those dancing eyes that still held a hint of unease, a question. He smiled a reassurance that everything was all right and he noticed the subtle change in Draco's bearing, the relief.

"Have I told you today how great you look?" Harry asked. Draco preened.

"Only a few times; I think I need to hear it at least once more."

"I just told you again, prat," Harry said, his mood lightening considerably with Draco's playful vanity.

Draco relented. "Well I always look great, not like that great aunt of the Weasley's. What on earth is that on her head? It looks like a hippogriff threw up its breakfast on her," Draco exclaimed, appearing to be disgusted and Harry let out a loud guffaw of laughter.

It was like they'd both released a breath; the tension seemed to slip away and Draco snuggled up into Harry's chest as they swayed in time to the music. "That's better," he murmured. "I still have an arse that seemed rather interested in that spanking you promised me earlier and I'd rather you not look like you just lost your best friend while you did it."

Harry couldn't even reply to that, he just hung onto Draco while they danced, anticipation smothering the last little flare of self pity. So he was in love with an amazing man who could make him smile through anything and who cared enough to understand when no words were needed. Harry had no expectations of Draco being in love with him, but he knew he cared.

And that was enough.


	12. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Not Mine.

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Author's Notes: I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks to all of you whop reviewed the last one, and indeed all the chapters, I really appreciate every single one of them and am really grateful you are travelling on this journey with me.

jamie

xxxx

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Chapter 12

_ I made my will today. I don't think anyone faces their mortality in quite the same way after having made a will. It's an acknowledgment that you accept death. More than any token affirmation or spoken platitudes to the reality of death - they're just words, thoughts and emotions. Making a will is a physical, tangible admission of limits, of boundaries, and of a finite existence. _

_Proof. _

_Despite everything, I don't think I was ready for that. _

_Harry Potter, December 2005._

.o0o.

The relationship between Harry and Draco seemed to become more intense after Ron and Hermione's wedding. Or at least it appeared that way to Harry. He looked at Draco more closely, noticed minute details about the curve of his bottom lip and the hollow in his throat; noticed these things with his teeth and his lips as well as his eyes. He felt like a sponge, frantically soaking up infinitesimal fragments of experience for his senses: what Draco smelled like just after he came; a mixture of sweat and come and the breeze at the end of a summer day: how he sounded when Harry dragged a moan from deep within his throat; like he'd touched something profoundly vital and primal: how Draco tasted after he'd come home from the shop; a blend of sharp herbs, the remnants of his tools leaving traces on his lips: how Draco looked after he'd had a shower and stood with the sun behind him; like some ancient God, all white marble tinted with pink heat and shimmering with the light of the setting sun: how Draco felt when Harry came deep inside him; like a hard, tensed bundle of flexed muscle coaxing him deeper, to blend and merge with him the only way possible.

Their lovemaking, as Harry wanted to refer to it now, became more inquisitive, increasingly exploratory and questioning. The evening he'd spanked Draco left delicious memories of hot flesh, pink and angry looking, alongside the delightful noises Draco had made as he rutted against the bed on each downswing of Harry's hand.

They'd progressed to using Harry's old Gryffindor school ties to tie Draco's wrists to the bed head. Although Draco complained that Harry could at least use Slytherin green ones that went with his pale skin, he still moaned loud enough that it was music to Harry's ears and still begged for Harry to fuck him.

.o0o.

Draco had tried to teach Harry to cook something more interesting than basic steak and salad but, after Harry managed to burn pasta, he decided that he really didn't want to have to live with the smell of burnt food every day. Harry gave up and told Draco that he'd take charge of the steaks and Draco could cook everything else.

"Aww, poor baby," Draco had cooed, when Harry's last disaster boiled dry and set the saucepan alight. "At least your skills in the bedroom far outweigh your skills in the kitchen."

Harry had stormed off dramatically, very put upon. "I know, you only want me for my body." He pouted. "I'm just a toy boy, I knew it."

Laughter took over the evening then but Harry didn't attempt anything more demanding than steak and Draco never asked him to.

Draco's shop was already so successful that he was beginning to pay Harry's loan back. He hadn't insisted on paying rent yet, but he did insist on making inroads into paying back the loan. It didn't matter to Harry either way, but he knew it was important to Draco to be seen as independent and making his own wealth and future. Draco worked long, hard hours to ensure that he was. And in the lead up to Christmas it was even longer hours. Sometimes it was midnight before Draco would stagger in, kiss Harry with his herb soaked lips, and fall into bed.

.o0o.

Not everything was perfect. Harry was happy that it wasn't, because _life_ wasn't perfect and he wanted life. The main thing Harry and Draco disagreed on was Charles. Draco was adamant that Charles was an asset to the shop, as he had an impeccable bloodline, apparently. Harry would have been quite happy for Charles to take his impeccable bloodline and shove it down someone else's throat, thank you very much. But nothing Harry said would change Draco's mind and in the end Harry realised that it didn't matter anyway. When he was gone, Draco could do what he wanted and if that meant Charles fucking Frobisher remained in Draco's life and took on a rather different role than shop assistant, then so be it.

Charles inadvertently - read deliberately - caused their largest argument since they'd been at school. A few days before Christmas, Harry was preparing to travel to Hogwarts to assist in putting up the Christmas decorations. He'd participated in that ceremony since Hagrid moved to France after marrying Madame Maxine. Hogwarts always felt like home and going back once a year made him feel like he was keeping in touch with his childhood.

Draco had just left for work when Harry received an invitation for Draco and himself to spend the night at Hogwarts after decorating the Great Hall, and then attend a holiday feast the next day before the children left on the Hogwarts Express to go home for the holidays.

He firecalled Draco's shop but Charles said he was busy.

"Can you give him a message for me, please?" Harry asked Charles, who nodded, his calculating eyes dismissive of Harry. Harry really disliked this young man.

"Will you tell him we've been invited to spend the night at Hogwarts and attend a feast the next day? He can Floo directly over when he finishes work. Tell him I'll see him around dinner time."

"Yes, Mr. Potter." Charles smarmed. Harry nodded and ended the call.

If Harry hadn't been so busy disliking Charles, he might have remembered not to trust that Draco would even get the message.

Draco had been furious that Harry didn't return home that night and hadn't called to let him know he was all right. He'd had spent the night frantic, worried that something had happened to him. He admitted later that deep inside, he knew that Harry was probably staying the night when he hadn't arrived home by dinner time, however, that hadn't stopped him worrying because he didn't _know_. Harry hadn't had the decency to let him know.

When Harry arrived home the next day, equally furious at Draco not even bothering to let him know he wasn't going to be able to make it, they'd argued loudly. Harsh, angry words were shouted before Harry yelled that he'd left a damned message with Charles.

"You did?" Draco asked.

"Of course I did! I would never have gone off like that and not told you. I still can't believe you thought I would do that."

"That…Charles had better have a good explanation and be prepared to do some serious sucking up to me in order to keep his job," Draco stated, angrily. Luckily the anger was now directed towards Charles.

"Not so much of the 'sucking' thank you," Harry snapped. "That would just be one more thing for me to be fucking pissed about."

"Oh, come on, Harry. I've never given you cause to think I'd cheat on you with him. _Charles Frobisher?_ Honestly, Harry I'd rather shag a girl than him. And you know it. He doesn't hold a candle to you."

Harry allowed himself to be mollified. A little. But he swore that if Charles didn't watch his behaviour then he might decide to fight fire with fire. Besides, he didn't want to fight with Draco, who was watching him curiously.

"Right, so seeing as I missed out on your company last night and had to sleep in a bed all on my own, I insist that you take me to bed and prove that," Harry demanded. Who said Draco always got to be the demanding one?

Needless to say, Charles did his image a lot of damage in Draco's eyes after that fiasco. He only just managed to keep his job by begging, promising Draco he'd never forget to pass on messages again.

.o0o.

In the days after Hermione and Ron's wedding, Harry went to see Mr. Tort to make his will. It was a harrowing experience and afterwards he never wanted to see his lawyer again if he could help it. Dumbledore's estate was put in trust for any student who didn't have the money for a Hogwarts education and was to be administered by Mr. Tort's firm, with Hermione and Pansy having the final say. Draco was to inherit the Black estate and the rest, if any, of Harry's own estate, after other bequests he'd made to the rest of his family and friends.

It was after making his will that Harry started lashing out at things occasionally.

Society or human nature or something would suggest that this should be one of the happiest times in his life. He was young, rich, good-looking, and he had a boyfriend he adored. He was in love and he was happy.

But the boundaries Death and Mortality placed around him shackled his ability to enjoy this happiness. At times the bitterness railed against his better, more common sense and he would often have to leave the flat, late, after Draco was asleep, and walk the silent streets. He'd wear trainers so his footsteps were muffled and, as it was winter and almost Christmas, he'd rug up warmly but would still have to wipe impatiently at his nose when the cold made it run.

He'd be gone hours, often just walking, peering into rooms dimly illuminated by lights on a Christmas tree left on to shine and throw multi coloured shadows across walls, casting flares of tradition through the window, tantamount to telling the world that all was well in that household.

Sometimes he'd find the occupants still up, and he'd stand unobserved, watching them through their windows. One lady was on the telephone, the tears streaming down her face, but her eyes lit with joy. He cast a listening spell then, and heard her speaking to her daughter all the way across the world in Australia whom she hadn't spoken to since last Christmas.

Another man sat alone in his room, a meager tree with a lone light on the top of it beside him. Harry stood watching, almost keeping vigil with him until he turned off the light and headed to another room, presumably a bedroom.

These people, who were seemingly lost or held separate from the spirit of Christmas were those he identified with. And he'd stay there, watching them and their lives until they retired to bed and he needed to be on his way.

The destination for most of these walks tended to be a park, large enough that casting a _Muffliato_ spell to stop anyone hearing him, and covering himself with the invisibility cloak wouldn't be noticed. Then, he'd sit on a bench somewhere and, hidden from the world, from every living soul, he'd cry out his grief with no one to witness his helplessness and vulnerability. It was private, his grief and anguish were not for others to share or to bear with him.

In the early hours of the morning, he'd slip back into bed behind Draco and press himself up behind him. He always felt better after having got that out of his system, but he felt guilty that no one knew. He'd always had trouble crying, letting his grief go, and to do it in front of anyone else would be too hard for him. He was going to allow himself this weakness because control over what he did with his own emotions and pain was all he had left for now and for who knew how much longer. While he had a choice, solitary, private grieving was what he'd choose.

His life wasn't all doom and gloom, though. His book was coming along spectacularly well, although writing about his diagnosis and his reactions to it probably had a lot to do with his anguished state of mind and the way he was feeling lately. Not that he didn't have a reasonable excuse for his outbursts; anyone would allow him a reasonable temper reaction. But that was just the thing; he didn't want them to make allowances for him – he wanted to be told if he was acting like a jerk and to have his face slapped, or in Draco's case have Draco punch him in the jaw. Luckily, he hadn't had a temper tantrum that bad. Yet.

And all this internal _thinking_ was mere exhausted rambling since he'd not had nearly enough sleep in the month since the wedding. There was much in his life to be grateful for and to be happy about, but finding the inner peace to enjoy and appreciate them and not ask for more was hard. How could you be content with leaving them? How could you not ask, beg and plead – hell - do anything bar sell your soul just to stay?

However, he'd found enough peace to enjoy the good times, and there were plenty of them.

.o0o.

Christmas turned out to be almost perfect. Draco insisted on celebrating Christmas at the flat. He said he'd freeloaded off all his friends for so long in the past that it was about time he began to repay all the hospitality.

So they'd magically enlarged the living and dining areas of the flat and invited everyone for a Christmas Eve dinner, leaving those who had families to see them on Christmas day.

By the time everyone arrived there were twenty-three of them. Harry emphatically refused to add Charles to the list and Draco didn't protest too much. Not after Harry made good use of the Gryffindor school ties again and tied him to the dining table, before taking the wooden spoon to his bum.

He kept that little piece of information from the guests during dinner. He didn't think it likely that Hermione's parents would appreciate knowing that Harry and Draco had christened that table extremely hard - hard enough to have it rocking so dangerously that it threatened to break apart.

Gift giving around the tree before dinner turned out to be a fun, chaotic affair, with Jasmine ripping paper off presents with gusto and squealing at each treasure. She had teamed up with Bill and Fleur's eldest who was a year younger and the two terrors made light work of many hours of wrapping. Before long it seemed the whole floor was covered in scraps of brightly coloured paper, loose ribbon and numerous gift tags.

Harry would have liked to have Mario, Vanessa and the staff from _Mario's_ there, but mixing Muggles who had no idea there were such things as wizards with the Weasleys would have been too much. Everyone would have had to be on their best behaviour and with the amount of free flowing mulled wine, it was too big a task for anyone, let alone people like George who liked nothing better than to trick unsuspecting Muggles with harmless jokes and tricks.

Molly fussed over Alison, insisting on holding her so Hannah could relax and Hannah readily agreed. At four and a half months old, Alison watched the world and the colourful Christmas wrappings with wide eyes and a huge toothless grin.

Luna remarked that Alison would be a Gryffindor just like her father. For all Luna's eccentricity, they all knew that when she made predictive comments like that they should listen, as she was almost always right.

"How do you know she'll be a Gryffindor, Luna," Neville asked, clearly not displeased that Luna thought his daughter would be in his old House at Hogwarts.

Luna cocked her head and looked off past everyone to the front door, as if thinking. After a short time, she nodded and returned her gaze to Neville. "Fred told me," she said, simply. The room went quiet, apart from Jasmine and Victoire exclaiming over a new doll. And when they realised that everyone else had gone quiet they stopped and listened as well.

"Fred, as in my Fred?" George asked.

Smiling, Luna nodded. "He wanted to come here and spend this Christmas with us all because next year we won't all be here."

Harry paled. That could mean anything, really though, couldn't it? One of them might be away on business or could have moved overseas or any one of a number of possibilities. It didn't _have_ to mean him. But he knew it did.

Molly became a little teary - even after all these years it was understandable. "Tell him we love him and miss him, will you, dear?"

"Oh, he knows that," Luna said, cheerily. "He watches over all of us. He and James and Sirius are quite the trio on the other side."

Strangely enough, that made Harry feel better. There would be people waiting for him in his 'next great adventure'. So many people he loved had already gone; when he went he wasn't going to be alone.

"Does he have any messages for anyone else?" George asked.

Luna went quiet again and looked away. Then she laughed and shook her head. "He only wants you to know that he misses you most of all and," she turned to Seamus, "he wants you to know that had he not been straight he'd have chased after you after you did that strip at the bar for Ron's stag party."

There were a lot of opened mouths at that. Hermione hit Ron with an accusing stare before redirecting it to Harry and silently asking him to explain.

Harry was floundering until Draco spoke up. "Oh, come on, Weasley…" He was obviously directing his comment to Fred. "I knew you Weasleys didn't have much taste, but Finnigan?"

"Oi!" protested Seamus, laughing. "I'm not that bad, am I, Harry?"

Harry held up his hands, laughing. "Don't bring me into it. I'm already in enough trouble from Hermione for taking you all there, you can't honestly think I'd tell you you're hot with my boyfriend sitting right here?"

Seamus grinned. "But if he wasn't?"

"He is, though," Draco interrupted and tossed a scrunched up piece of wrapping paper at Seamus' head.

"I think this is all heading away from the real issue here," Hermione overrode. "And that is that you _boys_," she placed strong emphasis on that, "didn't see fit to inform me that you went to a strip show for Ron's stag night."

"Hey, nothing happened, love, leave it be," Ron said, patting her on the knee. "We all made it out in one piece. I didn't get sent to Australia by a non-returnable Portkey. We're all safe, although Seamus won't ever be allowed back into that club."

"He could work in one of the gay strip clubs, though," Harry quipped. "You'd earn a fortune." He laughed as Seamus held his hands up.

"No way, I'd need to get meself too drunk each night to get up there on stage and get me kit off. I'd be drinking me earnings."

"Will someone please explain what you're talking about?" Pansy asked, shaking her head in confusion.

"Finnigan decided, in his infinite Gryffindor wisdom, that as Harry, myself, Charlie and Davis were missing out in the entertainment stakes by not being offered young hot male bods to ogle, he would kindly be our entertainment," Draco expanded, a smirk upon his face.

"And caused us to be ejected from that fine establishment," Davis finished.

As everyone laughed, Hermione gripped Ron's hand hard and whispered, "We'll talk about this later, Ronald."

Draco had been up early that morning, preparing and cooking a large turkey with accompanying trimmings. Harry couldn't wait to see them all seated and eating together. He'd bought a Muggle video camera and charmed it to follow various people around the flat, recording everything. It had seemed like a wasteful, impulsive purchase at the time but now, thinking about it, he realised with a pang that this was to be his last Christmas, and it would give him something to look back on at some future date where he might be feeling down and lost. He could use this happy day to bolster his mood and remind himself how lucky he was to have them all in his life.

Looking at everyone seated around his table, the feeling of being blessed with wonderful, warm, emotional, passionate friends – family - washed over him and he was grateful for every single one of them.

Then Jasmine knocked over the gravy boat and, in her haste to clean it up, Hannah stumbled and brushed up against Blaise's arm, knocking his drink all over himself and causing him to stand up suddenly and bump the table, whereby glasses of wine toppled over and the candles looked wobbly in their holders. Not to be outdone, George let off the Weasley's version of fireworks in the room and utter chaos ensued. Harry just sat amongst it, laughing his head off while they all tried to clean up, interspersing bouts of cleaning with little spurts of helpless laughter. He hoped the camera caught it all.

Later that night, after everyone had left and the flat cleaned up, Harry sunk down onto the couch and pulled Draco down onto his lap.

"Enjoy yourself?" he asked, nuzzling Draco's neck and inhaling the masculine scent of his boyfriend that was inlaid with remnants of the days cooking.

Draco nodded and yawned. "They're quite something when they all get together aren't they?"

Harry made a snorting sound of agreement.

"I actually envy you that." Draco sighed.

"What?"

"That you had such a big circle of people that cared for you so ridiculously obviously," he whispered. "My Christmases were vastly different."

"I know," Harry said equally quietly, kissing the soft skin under Draco's ear. "Mine generally weren't anything like this either but now you'll have Christmases like this every year if you want them."

"We will, you mean," Draco said, turning his head and kissing Harry deeply. "Take me to bed, Harry," Draco murmured softly against his lips, tiredness teasing his tone.

Harry nodded and went to stand up, lifting Draco with him, but a sudden weakness in his arm made him stop for a moment and flex his fingers. He shrugged, "Sorry, hand must have gone to sleep," he said, lifting Draco and carrying him through to the bedroom, the prospect of being wrapped around a sleepy Draco pushing all other thoughts from his head.

.o0o.

"Harry, I need to talk to you. Can I come over?"

Harry didn't even think twice when Luna asked to come and see him. He loved her off-the-wall personality and the way she was always unashamedly just herself, no matter how dreamy or spacey or slightly insane she came across. Her ideas, much as her clothes, were an individual statement that spoke as much about her place in the world as it did the state of her intelligence.

Automatically, Harry said, "Sure, when do you want to come?" expecting her to reply with, "Oh, you know, tomorrow maybe," as she usually did but today she was forthright and direct.

"Now, if that's alright with you. I need to talk to you about why you haven't told anyone you're leaving us."

_Oh._

Harry sighed. "All right, come on through," he said, not even thinking of disputing her or claiming to not know what she was talking about, rather just counting his lucky stars that Draco was already off at work.

When she stepped through, she was carrying a basket of odd looking bits and pieces, which he eyed dubiously. He was about to ask what they were for, when she interrupted him.

"Your mother tells me that you will be joining them sooner rather than later," Luna stated bluntly.

"My--"

"Yes, your mother. She's a lovely lady, your mum. She was the one that made me keep that carriage free on the Hogwarts Express all those years ago. Do you remember that's how we met?"

"Of course, how could I forget?" Harry replied, slightly dazed that his mother spoke to Luna. "Does she say much?" he asked hopefully.

Luna shook her head "No, but she told me something was off with your aura and so I checked and it's clear that you have some foreign object growing in your head and it's killing you."

Harry sat down, nodding. "You're right."

"How did this happen, then, Harry?" she asked in a softer voice.

"It doesn't need to have a cause. It's a cancer, it destroys and that's all I need to know."

She pursed her lips, frowning. "Is there nothing to be done, then?"

"No. Not unless I want to live the rest of my life in and out of hospital, drugged up to the eyeballs with crap that will make me sick."

"But how much longer would that give you?"

"Maybe nothing," Harry replied. "Maybe a couple of years, no one knows."

Luna shifted and sat beside him placing her arm around his shoulder. He looked at her and gave her a sad smile, which she returned with a cheerful one. "Never mind, Harry. You can say hello to my mum when you go and give her a hug from me."

Harry smiled despite his shock at seeing Luna give him such a cheery smile. "I will. I know you miss her a lot,' he said.

Luna placed one hand over her heart and removed the hand from round Harry's shoulders and placed that on her forehead. "But I have her in here, and in here," she said. "She's never left me lonely because she's always with me. When I get sad or lonely, like in the times before I met Daph, I ask myself, "What would mum do?" And she always tells me here," Luna tapped her forehead, "and hugs me here." The hand over Luna's heart patted at her chest.

"That must be a great comfort to you." Harry smiled, touched.

She nodded. "It is."

"Do you…do you think that I can be that for Draco?" Harry asked timidly.

Luna shrugged. "If he's let you into his heart, then maybe. But you haven't told him yet, either, have you?"

"I haven't told anyone. I don't want anyone to know," Harry explained.

"You don't think that as your friends we should know?"

Harry sighed. "Most people aren't as accepting of death and the afterlife as you are, Luna. I don't want them to change the way they treat me, just because I'm dying. I want the last months of my life to be spent with them. Enjoying them, them enjoying me."

"And you think that won't happen if they know?"

"I know it won't happen. They'll look at me differently. I saw how things were when Ginny was injured, how everyone was afraid to say the wrong thing to her; how upset they were. I don't want that. I don't want to see the pain in their eyes when they look at me…I don't…" Harry stopped, his voice deciding to crack. He swallowed hard. "I don't want anyone to do anything different than normal. I just want to live what time I have left how I want it and I couldn't stand to see them look at me any different than they always have."

"I understand, Harry. Hermione would spend what time you have left looking up a cure."

"Exactly," Harry said. "And she'll get that really sad look in her eyes and she'll be watching me every second for some sign that the illness is progressing. I can't…I just can't l-live what time I have left with that sort of attention."

Luna's arm went back around Harry's shoulder. "How long do you think you have left?" she asked quietly.

Harry sighed and leant into the embrace, resting his head on her shoulder. "Five, maybe six months," he said. "They have no idea. I'm taking a potion to mask the symptoms but I need it more regularly now. Every two weeks instead of once a month."

There was silence for a while then; Harry was kind of relieved to have someone other than his Healer to speak to about it. No matter his intentions, it was hard carrying the burden of this knowledge on his own. He thought he'd dealt with it as best he could, but he was so tired. The lack of sleep was beginning to take its toll on him but he knew that he could take the best care of himself and he'd still be deteriorating slowly.

"I bought along some things that will help you sleep. Your mum was worried about that."

"She was?"

Luna nodded and pointed to the basket. "Just brew up a tea with the herbs and drink it before bed."

"Thanks, Luna." Harry smiled at her.

"You're handling this very well, I can see, Harry," she said, inspecting his face closely.

"I don't feel like it at times," Harry said tiredly.

"No, I expect not. When are you planning on telling them? When are you planning on telling Draco?"

Harry could feel his face crumple at the mention of telling Draco. He shook his head. "I can't…I don't know what to do. It wasn't meant to…I didn't mean to…" He took a deep breath. "I never intended to fall in love with him," Harry forced out.

"Oh, Harry," Luna breathed, reminiscent of Hermione. "You need to tell him. Partners are there to be a support to each other in times of need."

"No." Harry shook his head emphatically. "No. Call me a coward but I'm not putting him through that. When things get to a point where I won't be able to hide things much longer, I'll break up with him." Even Harry could hear the painful breaking of his voice.

"But he's in love with you, too, Harry. How can you not see it? We've all seen it for years. The two of you are the only ones who refused to see what was plain as the nose on your face. If you break up with him and then he finds out this news, which he will, you'll have devastated him twice. How can you do that?"

"I don't know, Luna, I just know that I cannot make him sit through the last weeks of my life watching me die. I just can't!"


	13. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: Not Mine.

* * *

Author's Notes: I really just want to thank everyone for the really moving reviews I've been receiving for this story. It touches me deeply to know how moved people have been, so I thank you all very much!

Enjoy this chapter. And let me know what you thought of it.

jamie

xxx

* * *

Chapter 13

_ When Andromeda took Teddy and moved to France,I almost went with them. Teddy felt like the last link to my parents, and Remus and Sirius. In some ways I felt like I would be letting them all down if I didn't look out for Teddy. Narcissa was the one who suggested I stay in England. She said that Teddy didn't need the notoriety that would comefrom having me in his life.It was the first time anyone had not wanted to know me because of who I was. It was refreshing. I do miss him though._

_Harry Potter, February 2006._

"Draco, have you seen that navy silk shirt of mine?" Harry called as he rummaged through the closet.

"Last time I saw it, it was on your back," Draco replied, popping his head into the bedroom from the bathroom. "Although, now I think about it, I did see it on the floor after you undressed. Why don't you just wear another one?"

"I might have to, damn it," Harry grouched. "I specifically wanted to wear that one though."

"Maybe you should just wear nothing," Draco commented as he finished in the bathroom and moved back into the bedroom, removing his towel and dropping it on the floor. Harry saw it and laughed to himself. Some things never changed.

"Ah, but that look works better for you," Harry said appreciatively, giving his boyfriend the once over.

"But of course," Draco replied, eyebrow suggestively raised. "I merely saw you shirtless and thought to distract you."

"Well I don't think you needed to say anything to do that. The sight of your naked body is distraction enough." Harry winked at him. And really, who could blame him? The long lean lines of Draco's pale body always seemed to glow in the dim light of late afternoon.

"Can't be too distracting if you're all the way over there, still." Draco pouted, one hand on his hip, the other fondling his balls.

Harry stalked across the room to stand in front of Draco as close as he could without touching him, though with each movement of Draco's hand on his balls a rapidly hardening cock brushed against Harry's stomach. "That's hardly fair," he said softly, barely a whisper.

"Why's that?" Draco breathed into Harry's mouth, daring him, drawing him closer.

"Because you're going to make me late," he replied, letting their lips brush only with the movement of his speech.

"Late for what?"

"I have no fucking idea." Harry groaned as he slid his arms around Draco's waist and bore them both to the bed.

Harry was really surprised to find that Draco was already lubed up and stretched. He smirked. "You planned this all along didn't you, you wanton thing?"

Draco was too busy undoing Harry's trousers to do much more than spread his legs wider and nod, gasping as three of Harry's fingers entered him at once to make sure that ready really was _ready_.

By the time Harry pushed himself into Draco's welcoming heat, he was hard enough to drill holes and from there it didn't take long until they'd set a rhythm, rocking and moving together like a sinuous snake. When Draco clamped his legs tightly around Harry's waist and arched his back, he came with a cry, dragging Harry along with him.

"That was short." Harry puffed into Draco's neck and he lay draped over Draco's still panting body. "But incredibly sweet. You should keep yourself ready at all times for when the pleasure takes me."

Draco laughed. "Chained to the bed naked, with a dildo inserted at all times, except when it's your cock, right?"

"Of course. You're my own private sex slave." He smirked.

"I suppose that's to be expected when you have a body like mine." Draco sighed theatrically.

Harry laughed again and pushed himself up, looking down at the expanse of beautiful body under him.

"The price you pay…" he mused, grinning.

"Consider yourself lucky that I let your Neanderthal hands anywhere near this perfection."

"Oh, I do, Draco, I do," Harry replied, absolutely seriously. Draco gave him an odd yearning look for just an instant before the teasing flirt covered it once more.

"Now, weren't you going to be late for something or can I tempt you to stay with me for a proper late Sunday afternoon laze in bed?"

"Ah, yes." Harry sighed and rose from the bed, picking up his clothes. "You haven't seen my navy silk shirt anywhere have you?" he asked.

"I told you before, the last time I saw it was on the floor."

"You did?" Harry replied, scratching his head. "You must have distracted me more than I thought."

Inside, a cold dread settled in the pit of his stomach. He had absolutely no recollection of asking Draco about his shirt.

.o0o.

Two hours later as he prepared to Floo home from Hogwarts, he'd convinced himself that it had just been one of those things where he hadn't been paying attention and been really, _really_ distracted by a naked Draco playing with himself. After all, he'd just spent the last two hours with Headmistress McGonagall, hammering out a plan to run a charity Quidditch match at Hogwarts - current students and teachers of Hogwarts against past students - and he'd not had any further lapses.

No, it was just an aberration, that's all. It was only early February; he still had heaps of time left. Still, it might not be such a bad idea to begin taking the potion more often now. It was worrying because he already had to take it every two weeks, and he could feel the time bomb in his head ticking away relentlessly.

When he returned home, he half expected to find Draco still in bed, lazing around after their late afternoon shag. He could go some more of that and take his time about playing with Draco's body. After he'd told Draco the good news about the charity match. It was something he'd thought about on and off for a while now, ever since he'd discovered that the Ministry was cutting funding to the orphanages in regards to education. The situation was political; he thought that the Ministry should bear the bill and look after the children, but he also liked the idea of the community assisting where it could. There were still a lot of families who had stayed virtually neutral during the war, and who were looking for ways to ingratiate themselves to the Wizarding population. Donating money to a cause was a good start, especially if it was education.

So, he'd approached various ex-students he knew to gauge reaction to playing a charity match. Everyone he'd spoken to had agreed in principle. Even Ginny, though she'd need to get official permission from her club, and that might be difficult as they'd become rather protective of her since her accident. Even though she was back in training and flying almost as well as ever, they were still being very careful of her.

McGonagall had agreed in principle as well and they'd just spent two hours working out ground rules and setting a date. It wasn't as early as Harry would have liked as having it in August meant that he was probably going to miss out, knowing his luck – which sent a cold chill up his spine when he thought on it – but signing up league stars against the finest Hogwarts had to offer was going to pull huge advertising and be the biggest charity match since the Cannons vs. Harpies game where Ginny fell last year.

Harry was really excited and couldn't wait to tell Draco. But there was a note on the fridge saying that he'd headed back to the shop to finish up an order for Hogwarts and would be home later. Bugger that, Harry thought, I want to tell him now.

He tossed a handful of Floo powder in the fireplace and stepped through.

When he arrived, the shop was quiet and only dimly lit by a solitary candle in a sconce on the wall close enough to the Floo for vision, but casting eerie shadows over the multi coloured shelves and stock.

As he walked towards the back room he heard murmured voices and he frowned, thinking that obviously Charles was here, too. The excitement of wanting to tell Draco his good news evaporated; it just wasn't the same with _him_ here. Disappointed, he was about to turn around and leave, when he heard something that made his blood boil.

"Oh, Draco, you should leave him."

The voice belonged to bloody Charles Frobisher and he was coming on to his boyfriend! Harry stopped dead, waiting for Draco to put him in his place. There would be no excuse for this, Draco would see that Harry had been right all along and fire him, good name and all.

"And why should I do that, Charles?" Draco replied. Harry caught the undercurrent of impatience in Draco's voice but he was surprised that Draco hadn't just cut him dead.

"Because I would be so much better for you than him. I run your shop for you and we work so well together, we make the perfect couple. Come on, Draco what do you say?" The voice was becoming seductive, cajoling. Harry pursed his lips and clamped his jaw shut lest he let out a loud growl. Come _on_ Draco, put him in his place!

There was silence for a while and Harry just _had_ to see what was happening. Hearing wasn't doing him any good, he had to _see_I Draco's reactions. The silence was ominous though. What if they were kissing? Heart yammering in his chest, Harry inched closer to the door and peered in.

Charles' arm was around Draco's shoulder as Draco was standing in front of a cauldron, stirring it. Charles' head was on Draco's shoulder and _Draco wasn't pushing him away!_ Harry erupted in a loud growl; loud enough that both men heard him and broke apart turning to look at Harry, startled. Harry took enough time to notice the smugness on Charles' face and he wanted, with everything in him, to punch that look off it. Draco had gone pale and still.

"How long were you there for?" Draco asked, shakily.

"Long enough," Harry replied curtly. He turned and left, Flooing home, hurt, betrayal, and anger burning hard inside him.

Draco followed shortly after, though Harry had time to stalk through the flat to the kitchen, yank the fridge open and grab a bottle of beer. Not that he really wanted anything to drink, but he had to do something. He had to put something in his hand to stop himself from punching the nearest wall.

He'd just flung himself down on a chair in the kitchen when Draco arrived. Harry wasn't sure that he wanted to see him; wanted to hear all the excuses or the reasons. Well, he had his answer now about why Draco refused to fire him. God, he felt used; used for his friendship and money and like a fool he'd fallen in love with him. Maybe Draco hadn't really changed all that much from school after all.

"Harry? Where are you?" came Draco's worried voice.

Harry ignored him and just sat in the kitchen, beer on the table now, hands clenched between his thighs and head hung low trying not to scream. Or lash out. Or cry.

He felt rather than heard Draco appear in the doorway, but he didn't look up.

"Any more beer left?" Draco asked, carefully as if he wasn't sure of his reception.

Harry didn't answer, actually found it impossible to even look up at Draco at all. So he didn't. He sat there silently, counting the flecks of colour in the tiles to contain himself.

"Look, it wasn't what it looked like," Draco said, trying again.

That must be the oldest cliché ever, Harry thought, finally unclenching his stomach and sighing. He cleared his throat. "Don't bother with explanations. No need. I guess you've come for your stuff then," he said, shocked at how normal his voice sounded, as if this was a normal situation and Draco was just a friend who was moving out.

"What? No… Do you want me to move out?" Draco sounded shocked and it made Harry look up at him, some small satisfaction in seeing that he was pale and worried.

"I don't suppose what I want matters much," Harry replied.

"If it helps any, I fired him."

Harry shrugged. "Not really."

"Harry," Draco started, moving further into the room and pulling out a chair to sit in front of him. "You can't honestly think I entertained the idea of having a relationship with him."

"You've been saying that since you hired him. But you say one thing and do another. What I saw tonight had gone beyond the boundaries of him flirting with you." Harry was beginning to get angry.

"But I would never have done anything with him," Draco exclaimed.

"You already were," Harry said simply. "I know what I saw, what I heard."

"What did you hear?" Draco demanded hotly. "Tell me what this 'something' was, because I sure as hell didn't see it."

"He had his arm around you and his head on your shoulder, begging you to leave me." Harry started and Draco interrupted.

"And did you see me agree to leave you?"

Harry glared at him. "No, you said nothing. _Nothing_, Draco. Which would imply to him that you were encouraging him. And seeing that he was so comfortable touching you and you were so comfortable with it too, then you were used to it and things are a lot less platonic than I'd always thought."

Draco shot up out of his chair. "God, you're impossible!" he shouted. "How many times do I have to tell you that I only keep Charles employed – kept him employed - because he was such an asset to my shop. Letting him flirt with me was just my way of making sure he gave me one hundred percent effort."

"That's bullshit, Draco. Complete and utter bullshit!" Harry yelled back at him. "People come to your shop for your potions, not for that smart arsed, jumped up _kid!_ What's the real reason you keep him - kept him - on?"

"That was the real reason, you idiot. Why the fuck would I shag an arse like that when I have you?"

"God." Harry ran his hands through his hair. "Stop tying to bloody sweet talk your way out of this one. You kept him on and deliberately led him on. I've been putting up with insults for months from him; telling me you were going to leave me for him, because he could offer you something I never could which was a connection to an esteemed pureblood line. And you won't…you wouldn't…" He stopped and bit his lip, forcing his throat to stop threatening to close on him.

Draco moved to stand right in front of Harry, looking down at him and cupping both cheeks with his hands. "I never realised that he said those things to you," he said gently. "If I'd known that, I'd have fired him long ago."

Harry pushed him away and deliberately did not see his crushed face at the rejection. "But you didn't. It still doesn't change what I saw tonight," he said, raising his chin, defiantly.

"You didn't see anything but some stupid kid who means nothing to me doing something immature. It's just…" Draco raked a hand through his own hair. "It's just how he is, I barely even think about it anymore."

"Why do you let him do it? Why did you let it go so far?" Harry asked.

"Bloody hell! Why are you so upset about this? It's not as if anything happened," Draco said, exasperated. "You're overreacting."

"Oh, right!" Harry yelled, slamming his palm down on the table as he stood face to face with Draco. "I'm overreacting? You're using him and very convincingly, too, if he still hasn't got the hint that you're not interested. You're leading him on to suit your own purposes and I'm overreacting? Are you doing the same thing to me?"

As soon as he said it, Harry realised that he probably shouldn't have. But he couldn't seem to stop himself. "Are you going to wait until the loan is paid off and then leave me because you don't need me anymore? Is that how it works?"

Draco's face went still and he paled to the colour of milk, before his eyes became angry and his face flushed. "How dare you?" he hissed, right before he punched Harry in the face.

Pain exploded in Harry's jaw and the jolt caused him to stagger backwards and his hip caught the edge of the table. Inhaling deep breaths he sat down on the chair heavily and rubbed his sore jaw, which felt it was three times its normal size already.

"Give me a look at that," Draco said roughly, and lifted Harry's jaw.

"Stop it. It's all right," Harry replied crossly. He knew he probably deserved the sock in the jaw.

"I shouldn't have hit you, I'm sorry," Draco said, sounding tired. When Harry looked at him, he was frowning and there was worry in his eyes, like he was still expecting the worst.

"No, I deserved it, I shouldn't have said that."

"So why did you? Is that what you think?"

Harry shook his head and had to stop and blink as a headache was starting alongside the throbbing of his jaw. "I don't think you're using me, I just…feel that by keeping Charles around, you're like…keeping your options open or something. He can't be that much better than anyone else in the shop."

"Harry, I…"

"Is that what you're doing?" Harry asked, deciding he needed to know.

"What? No! I wish I knew where you were getting these stupid ideas. I don't want anyone else, Harry, you imbecile, I want you."

"You have to admit, from where I'm sitting that's not what it looks like," Harry said.

"You've been fine with it up until now. Why, all of a sudden, don't you trust me?"

Good point, Harry thought. It wasn't a question of trust – well, actually, it probably was seeing as he'd jumped to conclusions far too quickly. He'd always trusted Draco before now, why had this affected him so much then?

Because this time, it became as much about what Draco didn't do, as it was about what Charles did do. And this time, he knew he was in love with Draco and witnessing that little scene had managed to trigger his jealousy and doubts.

"I do trust you," Harry protested. "And I haven't been fine with it at all. I've just kept telling myself to trust you and that it was your shop and you should know what's best. But even you can't deny that if our positions were reversed you wouldn't be angry and upset."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean 'even me'?"

"Well you're the one who says that emotion is too messy and selfless. Which was one of the reasons you were single by choice I might add." Harry pointed out.

"And if you remember, though you are so busy feeling hard done by that it's understandable if you've forgotten, that we got together because I was jealous thinking that you still had some feelings left for Ginny," Draco said coolly. "Which seems to indicate to me - correct me if I am wrong - that feelings might have been involved right from the start. Wouldn't you agree?" Draco finished on a sarcastic note.

Oh, shit. Had he been that blind?

"Are there, then?" he ventured.

Draco growled and shot to his feet. "For God's sake, Potter, you are the most oblivious man I've ever met! Yes! I. Am. In. Love. With. You. Can I spell it out any clearer than that?"

Harry met Draco's anxious yet exasperated eyes, hardly daring to breathe lest he say the wrong thing and ruin the whole moment. Not that in the middle of an argument was a brilliant moment to find out that the man you love is in love with you in return.

Oh, who was he kidding? It was the most brilliant fucking moment in the history of moments.

For all of ten seconds and then the world came crashing down around his ears and eyes and heart.

Draco wasn't supposed to fall in love with him. Harry had justified part of this by thinking that Draco wasn't going to fall in love with him and so wouldn't suffer the double loss of friend and love. Luna was right, though, now he'd suffer doubly. He should finish it right here and now. Lie and tell Draco it was over. Break his own heart in the meantime, but end it.

The seconds were counting down and Harry was sure that his uncertainty and desperation were showing in his eyes and he looked away for a second, blinking…and everything seemed to proceed in slow motion, his blink took a millennia longer than it should have. And in that second Harry decided that no, the damage was done, whatever grief Draco was going to suffer now wasn't going to change if he broke it off.

He was going to hang on to Draco until he just couldn't anymore. He was going to experience the most searched after thing in all mankind. How could he ever have thought of giving up love? It was his strength after all.

A smile broke out on his face as he lifted his eyes back to Draco's. "Good," he said, heart bounding in leaps of joy now. "I love you, too."

"God, come here, you," Draco said, pulling him up and into his arms. "I knew that; have known it for weeks, actually." He smirked. "You have always worn your heart on your sleeve, Potter. You ought to be more careful about that; someone might steal it."

Harry laughed and kissed him. "Someone already did."

"You big sap," he said, wrapping his arms around Harry and resting his head on Harry's shoulder. "Too bad you folded on that bet with Hermione," Draco said. "You'd have won otherwise, as I don't intend to let you go, ever."

The bet. God, he'd forgotten about that. He laughed. "Well if truth be told, I think she might have been expecting me to win the bet."

"How so?"

"Luna tells me that every single one of our friends have known how we feel about each other for years. They were just waiting for us to get over ourselves and see it, too."

Draco huffed and looked up, horrified. "I'll have you know that I am not that obvious."

Harry kissed him again. "We must be. Ever wonder why our friends never set us up on dates with other people?"

"Oh." Draco sighed. "Can we forget all about Charles Frobisher now?"

Harry nodded, contrite about making such a big deal, though when all was said and done, things had turned out incredibly well. Even if he was going to have a bruised jaw tomorrow to show for it.

.o0o.

Draco was as excited about the Quidditch match as Harry had been and he offered to play if Harry could find a spot for him.

"Of course. You're going to be my Reserve Seeker," he said, smiling proudly.

"But aren't you playing?" Draco asked, shocked.

Harry shook his head. "Nope. I'm coaching," he said. He actually doubted that he'd still be around to coach and in any case, players the standard of the ones he'd chosen wouldn't need coaching, a decent captain would be enough to work out strategies. Just like back in school.

"You're giving up a chance to play Quidditch back at Hogwarts?" Draco asked, disbelieving.

"I'm coaching, I told you. Plus I'm organising the thing, so I don't intend on playing as well."

"You'd get so many more people coming to watch if the Chosen One was playing," Draco insisted.

Harry shook his head. "Nah, they don't know me for playing Quidditch but they do know the others I've signed up, and if the Harpies don't release Ginny for the game I want you playing Seeker."

Draco moved closer and slid his arm across Harry, snuggling into his chest, making Harry feel warm and contented as he kissed the top of the blond head.

"All right, I'll play," Draco said, as if he were doing Harry a favour and hadn't actually offered to play in the first place. Harry smiled; the peaceful Sunday evening quiet a blessing after the emotional upheaval earlier.

"Did you have anything special planned for tomorrow?" Draco asked.

"Well, I assumed you'd be working. Even more now that you fired Charles," Harry said. "Why?"

"Valentine's Day. Wasn't sure if you wanted to do something special for it or not," Draco replied dreamily, and then pinched Harry's waist. "And you can come in to help me in the shop tomorrow, seeing as I am minus one shop assistant."

"Bully," Harry said affectionately, even though he flinched. "How about we go to Mario's for dinner? I've been promising to take you to meet him properly for ages."

"Where I'll get the once over, I assume," Draco replied and Harry knew he was rolling his eyes.

"Probably, though he's already met you and he likes you because you appreciate good pasta," Harry said, smiling.

"Fine, we'll eat at Mario's and I shall impress him and make sure he knows that I'm looking after his Harry," Draco said, kissing the words into Harry's chest.

.o0o.

"Mario!" greeted Harry the next evening as he escorted Draco into the restaurant. Luckily, Mario had excused himself from the kitchen and was greeting guests when they arrived. Mario beamed a warm welcome to both of them and pulled Harry in for a gruff hug.

"Harry. Welcome, welcome," he said, his round face creased in pleasure. Harry pulled back after a few moments, smiling.

"You remember Draco?" he said, turning towards Draco who was also smiling, if a little nervously. Not that it was obvious he was nervous; Draco wouldn't show that to anyone, except Harry knew him too well and knew that there was some anxiety in meeting Mario. Draco wanting to impress Mario was touching, actually, and he slipped his arm around Draco's waist, proudly.

"This is the man who puts such a smile on Harry's face," Mario beamed and hugged Draco as well. When he let him go, Draco turned to Harry and smiled.

"And what a gorgeous smile it is, too," he said, giving Harry a wink. Harry promptly blushed and had to endure both Mario and Draco teasing him about it until they were seated at their table.

"You boys have a lovely romantic dinner. I'll come out and speak to you later," Mario said, handing them menus and leaving.

Draco turned to Harry. "This is a great table, Harry. You were lucky to be able to get it on such short notice. Especially being Valentine's Day."

"Draco," Harry said, leaning close to him. "This is my table. Mario always puts me here when I eat. It's nice and private and he looks after me."

"He must really like you," Draco beamed, and then a small frown creased his brow. "What if he doesn't like me?"

Harry couldn't resist teasing. "Then you might end up wearing concrete shoes," he said, grinning at Draco's completely lost look. "Doesn't matter," he said, waving away the comment. "Of course he'll like you. He knows I do and he's seen how happy I am. You have nothing to worry about." He placed his hand over Draco's and squeezed it gently. Draco hooked his little finger around Harry's and smiled back.

Julian came over to take their order, bringing with him a spray of roses in a glass vase, which he placed on the table. "Compliments to the lovebirds," he said, grinning.

Draco laughed back and held out his hand. "You must be Julian. I don't think we met properly last time I was here. I'm Draco."

Julian shook his hand. "Of course you are. You're the blond that was all over Harry at his birthday."

That made Harry laugh. "Hardly."

"Oh, I tried, Harry." Draco pouted. "You were too busy to notice me." Harry could see the amusement in his eyes, though.

"There was a lot going on that night," Julian said. "How long have you two been together?"

"A few months," Draco said. "I made sure he noticed me, eventually. And I don't plan on ever letting him stop noticing me." There was such a husky quality in Draco's voice that Harry could quite easily have just Apparated home, shoved him down on the bed and made it very clear exactly what he noticed.

Julian laughed and swooned theatrically and then Draco ordered his meal, a smug grin on his face. Julian flashed Harry an approving nod as he took Harry's order and then disappeared, leaving the two of them alone.

"He's taken with you as well." Harry smiled.

"Two down, a few more to go," Draco replied, smiling back though still not completely convinced.

"Hey, what are you worried about? How can they not love you? I do. And all they want is for me to be happy." Harry leant over and kissed him gently on the lips. "And if you keep talking like you did to Julian I might need to cast a privacy spell and fuck you right here on the table."

A raised eyebrow and a daring smirk were the only responses he got from Draco about that; both of them knew Harry wouldn't dare do that in Mario's restaurant. Before they knew it the wine and meals had arrived and they spent the rest of the evening chatting about Harry's day working in the shop, organising a dinner party for their friends, and Harry's book, which he still wouldn't let Draco read. Obviously. And then Harry bought up something he later wished he'd raised much earlier.

"Have you heard from your mother recently?" Harry asked. He'd been thinking about Teddy and maybe visiting France and seeing how the boy was doing while he still could. One thought had led to the other.

Draco shook his head. "No, I haven't. But that doesn't surprise me. We've barely spoken since father died." He was frowning, a look that could pass for regret on his face.

"Why's that?" Harry asked, putting down his glass of wine.

"I'm not sure. I don't know if it is because I look like him and she can't stand to be reminded or if I have disappointed her by being gay or trying to work to earn a living or what it is."

Harry didn't answer for a while, watching Draco thoughtfully. "Maybe she doesn't like you to see her reduced to living off Andromeda. Maybe she feels guilty because she can't provide for you."

"I'm twenty five years old, she doesn't need to provide for me," Draco argued.

"Yes, but from her point of view, the Malfoy estate was to be yours and you'd have been well looked after for the rest of your life. It must be hard to see all that disappear leaving you financially destitute."

"Well, I hope she's happy with Andromeda anyway," Draco said.

"Does she know about us?"

"I wouldn't know, Harry, I haven't been in contact with her. I assume she probably read it same as we did. If she gets the _Prophet_ over there, that is."

Right, that made sense. He opened his mouth to say something more but Draco interrupted him.

"Do you mind if we change the subject? I'd rather deal with my problems with my mother at a later time."

Harry nodded and changed the subject, moving on to Quidditch and when the next scratch match would be and wondering if they could have some of the Wheezes products on standby in case Corner and his mates started up again.

At different times during the evening Mario came out and had a quick chat with them, once bringing his camera and taking a photo of them both. He actually took more than one and decided that the best one would be adorning his 'well fed' wall. Draco looked confused and Mario hastened to explain.

"I have a wall where I pin photos of all my best customers. The ones I consider 'well fed' because they keep coming back. They're the ones that are important; the ones that keep this place going. This restaurant is my life and all my customers are important, but the ones that come back mean I've fulfilled my calling and fed them well."

"Is Harry already up there?" Draco asked, smiling, interested.

"Harry is up there more than once. You want see?"

Draco nodded, rose and followed Mario to the wall where hundreds of photos were pinned to what looked like a huge corkboard. Harry went along too and stood quietly beside Draco, holding his hand as Mario searched through the pictures and found the ones of Harry that had been taken at different stages over the last few years. He hadn't changed much, but he did notice that he had lost weight around his face. Luckily he still looked healthy and didn't have an ill pallor but he knew he'd changed.

They spent a short time perusing the pictures, Mario pointing out some famous Muggle celebrities, while Draco just returned a blank look at the names. Janet wandered past and batted her eyelashes at Harry and playfully cutting her eyes to Draco. Harry pretended to swat her arse and introduced them.

"Draco. Nice to meet you." She smiled cheerfully. "I hope you look after Harry, here, he's become pretty important to us and we'd hate to see him hurt."

Draco nodded and opened his mouth to say something but Harry interrupted. "What is it with you and Mario threatening him? I'm quite capable of looking after myself, you know."

"Harry, they care about you and what happens to you. It's all right, you've become really special to me, too and I have no intentions of hurting you, ever." Draco said what Janet and Mario needed to hear as well as what Harry loved to hear.

The rest of the meal passed pleasantly, Mario having hired a violinist for the evening set aside specifically for lovers. Harry sat beside Draco, their hands entwined as they listened to the stirring melodies surrounding them. Harry was more interested in the blond beside him than the music coming from a talented musician and therefore most of his time was actually spent gazing at the profile of his boyfriend and letting himself experience the pleasure. When Draco caught him, he'd smile a slow smile, unguarded and honest.

Something profound settled in Harry's chest when Draco looked at him like that. Something permanent and solid that felt like he suddenly had all the answers to the universe closed itself around him and became an integral part of his soul.

And the aching beat in his heart reminded him that no matter what he felt, it was not permanent. It would never be permanent.

When they'd finished dinner, said their goodbyes and offered thanks to Mario and the staff, Harry felt like walking for a little while before they Apparated home. Despite it being cold, neither of them really wanted the night to end.

Wrapped in their cloaks, they walked arm in arm, Draco's head resting on Harry's shoulder occasionally, and neither of them feeling the cold at all.

"Thank you for bringing me here tonight, Harry," Draco said. "I had a lovely evening."

"I've wanted you to meet Mario and the others properly for ages and tonight seemed the perfect night for it." He loved how warm Draco was pressed up against his side. How he seemed to meld to fit every one of Harry's curves. How even their steps on the wet cobblestones of the street synchronised to sound like there was only one person walking down the street.

"You know, I feel fabulous," Draco said, sighing happily. "We should have done this years ago," he said.

"Eaten at Mario's?" Harry teased, knowing full well that wasn't what Draco had meant.

"Idiot," Draco said, nudging Harry with his elbow and making Harry sway a little, off balance. "I meant date, have a relationship, live together, fall in love, whatever you want to call it."

Harry was silent for a while, unable to voice the sudden realisation that Draco was probably right and instead of this short time, he could have had years of feeling this good. Years. It had taken them a long time to get past their childhoods. Both of them. And it had taken longer to form a friendship.

In the end, all he did was remove his arm from Draco's grip and wrap it around his shoulder instead, pulling him even closer and kissing him on the forehead.

"I can't remember ever being this happy before, Harry," Draco said, smiling up at him.

"Me, either," Harry whispered around the lump in his throat.

"Take me home, Mr. Potter, and make love to me," Draco said, smiling broadly as he leant up and kissed Harry's jaw.

"Anything for you, my love," Harry replied before Apparating them both back home.


	14. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: Not Mine.

* * *

Author's Notes: Things start to get a little sadder, though Harry has never been happier.

enjoy

love to you all and thanks for such gorgeous reviews. Leave me more, I adore knowing if you like the chapter or not.

jamie

xxxx

* * *

_ After it's all said and done, the hero is, in truth, a selfish bastard. _

_Harry Potter, March, 2006_.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think that you can reach the lube from where you are? Your cock is rubbing in just the right place and I really don't want to move."

"Huh?"

"Besides, you need to wake up a bit before you bury that thing in me and fuck me properly." Draco purred, and punctuated it with some deliberate wriggling of his arse, so that Harry felt the frisson right to his toes.

"Ah…right," Harry said, finally gathering his senses, which were hovering around his dick and demanding entrance in no uncertain terms. Bleary eyed, he reached over to the bedside table and dug his fingers in the pot they'd left open last night.

"Don't worry about prep, just lube up and fuck me, please," Draco insisted, a hint of desperation in his voice.

Harry was only too happy to oblige and he pulled away while he covered himself with the lube. "You still loose from last night? Not too sore?" Harry asked, his sleep filled voice still hoarse.

"No, I'm fine, but I might be loose for a week after that pounding," Draco said, and Harry could hear the smirk in his voice. Or would be able to had he been perceptive enough but all his attention was focused on nudging himself back between Draco's arse cheeks again. The channel was hot and welcoming and Harry felt Draco pressing back into him, could feel the light vibrations of Draco's chest as he moaned softly.

Harry held Draco's hip steady while he pushed himself past the still tight - no matter what Draco said - muscle, and eased inside. It didn't matter how many times they did this, it still felt unreal to Harry. Oh, it was totally natural and unforced and he felt no lingering sense of withholding anything from Draco but, as his hand slid up to rest possessively across Draco's chest, Harry still marveled at how this had all come about.

He was awake enough now to press all the way into Draco, taking his time to

languorously fuck his boyfriend, enjoying the tortuous slide of hard, sensitive flesh through the snug heat, each thrust making him tremble.

The hairs on the back of Draco's neck tickled Harry's nose when he kissed there and it made Harry smile and nibble on the damp skin, elated when Draco keened, arched his back and increased the force with which he pushed back onto Harry's cock.

"God, Harry…" Draco breathed, snapping out of his indolent mood and moving his hips, begging for it harder and faster.

"Hang on," Harry warned, before changing his angle slightly to get better depth and then thrusting into him as hard as their positions would allow. In response, one of Draco's hands rose and wrapped itself around Harry's neck and he hung on while Harry continued driving forward into him. Accompanying grunts and gasps melted away in the early morning gloom and Harry could feel that Draco's free hand had taken hold of his cock and he was stroking himself in time with Harry's thrusting.

For a moment it became frenzied, Harry barely managing to maintain a coherent thought, then he buried his face in Draco's neck, biting down on the soft skin there as his whole body spasmed and he came deeply inside Draco, who was crying out his own release.

When Harry had regained his breath, he smiled into Draco's neck, kissing and licking the red mark he'd made with his teeth in the height of his passion. "Now, I could get used to waking up like that," he said.

"Hmm," Draco replied, stretching, arching his back but not allowing Harry to slip free just yet. "There is nothing, absolutely nothing better than having your cock in me," Draco said, raking his hand through Harry's hair, sounding extremely pleased and satisfied with himself.

"Well, allow me to oblige you with that at any time," Harry whispered into Draco's ear, feeling the little shiver Draco gave as his warm breath washed over his ear.

"Hmmm, wouldn't it be amazing to be able to spend our lives just like this?"

"Spending our days being indolent rich lazy slobs?" Harry laughed.

"No, idiot." Draco laughed, tugging on Harry's hair affectionately. "I meant always feeling this wonderful. Always feeling this smugly content. Always with the feeling that comes from just having been fucked so perfectly."

"I could easily spend my life with you exactly like that," Harry said. And that was true; he planned to spend the rest of his life with Draco.

He'd not expected sex with Draco to be this open. Draco was candidly affectionate, appreciative and passionate. At first it had astonished him that Draco spoke so explicitly about how sex with Harry made him feel but after his initial surprise, Harry treasured every utterance. Further than the words, though, Harry had learnt to interpret each sigh and exhalation in the search to understand everything there was to know about his boyfriend and ensure he pleased him.

"Good," Draco murmured as he yawned and settled back against Harry, snuggling in to sleep.

"Don't sleep too long, we have places to go today," Harry whispered.

"Hmm, I won't," came the sleepy reply. "I set the clock to wake us at nine. Not that I really want to go, but they're expecting us now."

"What time do we need to be there?" Harry asked, placing soft kisses on Draco's shoulder, smiling at the way the little hairs moved when he breathed.

"Eleven," Draco said, yawning again.

"And you organised the Portkey?" Harry asked.

"No, Harry, remember we couldn't get an International one so we're Flooing to the coast then taking a Channel Floo to Paris and Apparating from there." Draco's voice petered out at the end and Harry realised he'd dropped off to sleep after all.

Harry lay awake then until the alarm went off at nine, thinking about the ramifications of him not remembering a thing about their adjusted travel arrangements.

.o0o.

At precisely 11.00am, Harry and Draco made the final Apparition to the front door of Andromeda's house. Harry was quite excited, as he hadn't seen Teddy since the boy was about three years old. Prior to that, he'd kept up with him regularly, but when Andromeda had decided to leave England and live in France, taking Draco's mother with her, he'd not had the chance to visit him. In truth, he should have made more effort, but he was part of the reason Andromeda had left England in the first place. She'd felt that Teddy was getting too much attention from the press being associated with Harry and the fact that he was the result of a union between a Metamorphmagus and a Werewolf was only going to attract the wrong sort of attention. She wanted him to grow up without being in the spotlight, which Harry understood.

He'd let them go with a heavy heart, not that he'd have had the right to stop them or ask them to stay. He'd made sure that Teddy would always be looked after and he and Andromeda exchanged photos and progress reports often.

It had been a similar amount of time since Draco had seen his mother. When Harry had spoken of her back on Valentine's Day, Draco had wanted to change the subject. It had taken Harry a week to get Draco to talk about it, and almost as long for him to agree to a visit. Some things, Draco had said, should be left alone.

But of course, Harry figured that when he was gone, Draco might appreciate the comfort his mother could give him. Or support. He knew Narcissa loved her son and Draco was going to need someone that knew him inside out to be there when Harry left.

"You nervous?" he asked Draco, pushing the doorbell and hearing a melodic tune announcing their arrival.

Draco nodded. "A little. Maybe you're right, maybe she did feel bad for failing me, somehow," he added.

"Maybe," agreed Harry. "She certainly answered your Owl quickly enough. I think that indicates that she was really missing you and wanted to see you."

"I know. It's just…" He paused as an old house-elf answered the door and informed them that the Mistresses and Master Teddy were in the lounge waiting for them. "It's just that I haven't seen her for more than four years," Draco whispered as they walked through to the lounge, following the elf.

When they rounded the corner, Harry's legs were almost taken from under him by a whirlwind of red hair, shocking red hair, and the grip of seven-year-old limbs wrapping themselves around his legs.

"Harry! You came!" cried Teddy Lupin.

"Teddy!" Harry exclaimed and dropped to his knees to get a better look at his Godson. Teddy's normally shaggy brown hair was straight. And red. A bright fire engine red, not a Weasley red. "Let me get a look at you," Harry said, glancing at Draco, only to see he had continued on to go and see his mother.

"Gosh, you're so tall now, Teddy," Harry said, smiling and looking him over.

The red bob bounced as Teddy nodded. "I'm growing up, Nana Tonks says," he said.

"You certainly are. And getting up to no good, I'll bet," Harry replied.

"Well…" Teddy said doubtfully, as if wondering how much he could trust Harry. Then his irrepressible nature won out and he giggled, turning his hair a particular shade of purple that Tonks used to use. For a moment, Harry felt the wistful pang of loss, knowing that Tonks would have been so proud of Teddy, with his sparkling brown eyes that softened to sympathy easily, just as Remus' had done.

"So, come and tell me all about your little exploits, Teddy," Harry said, ruffling his hair.

Teddy led him off to the lounge, prattling on nineteen to the dozen, regaling Harry with tales of courage and daring and putting spiders in Sophie Mercer's lunch box at school. Harry listened attentively, waiting until Teddy needed to breathe, in order to greet Andromeda properly.

"How are you, Harry?" she asked, smiling a gentle smile. She was looking older, he saw, a lot more tired, and Harry wondered how much was from aging and how much was from running around after a grandchild.

"I'm well, thank you, and you?" he asked, returning her smile.

He noticed that Draco was embracing Narcissa over in one corner. Relieved, he didn't interrupt them to greet Narcissa. There would be time enough for that later.

"We're all well here," Andromeda replied. "It's lovely to see you after all this time."

"It's been a while," Harry agreed, sitting on the couch, Teddy jumping up beside him and leaning into his side obviously trying to get his attention. "How's he been?"

"Teddy is doing well in school and seems to have made lots of friends."

They both watched as Teddy pouted for a moment at having been denied the chance to talk more to Harry. Then he discovered the croissants and cakes on the table and promptly forgot about Harry, as seven year olds are prone to do when faced with food like that. Harry smiled.

He'd noticed that on occasion Teddy spoke in slightly accented English, which was something he would have picked up being around French speakers in his important language formation years. And now he assumed that Teddy spoke French as well. Which raised the question of where Teddy was going to go to school when he turned eleven.

"Where do you think you'll send him when he turns eleven?" Harry asked.

"Hogwarts, I think," she answered. "It's where Dora and Remus went. They both loved that school." A slight frown marred her face. Harry understood that, or thought he did. Both Tonks and Remus had died defending the school in the final battle.

He nodded. "They did. He knows about what happened there?"

Her face clouded a little more; it was clear that she still grieved for the loss of her daughter. "Yes, they died heroes and he deserves to know all about them."

"You're not worried that it might affect him too much, being there where they died?"

Andromeda shrugged an elegant shoulder. "If there is anywhere he might go to feel closer to them, then Hogwarts would be it," she said simply. She looked up at Harry, her piercing grey eyes intent. "Tell me, when you lost Sirius would you have wanted him to return to keep you company as a ghost?"

Harry's mouth dropped open. He'd not even thought of that for Teddy. He remembered back in fifth year when he'd asked Nearly Headless Nick about coming back as a ghost and when he'd heard what it involved, he was glad Sirius hadn't. But he'd still wanted it at first and he couldn't deny how much he'd missed Sirius.

"At the time I was consumed with grief and guilt and I would have given anything if he'd returned as a ghost. But now? I remember what Nearly Headless Nick told me about being a ghost and I realised that I'd be condemning his soul to an eternity being a ghost, long after I died. Long after I died and he could be of any comfort for me."

Andromeda's eyes dropped from Harry's and her shoulders sagged. "Is it wrong for me to hope one of them is a ghost at Hogwarts for him?" she asked in a whisper.

"I don't know about wrong," Harry replied. "You truly think Teddy would benefit from having one of them there?"

She nodded, vigorously. "I do. I want him to know them. They died before he was aware of them at all. I want him to have that comfort of knowing one of them at least."

Harry had been through similar feelings over his parents as well as Sirius. The amount of time he'd spent sitting in front of the Mirror of Erised, the shocking comfort and courage they'd given him at the graveyard when they were exhumed through Voldemort's wand and the uncommon peace they'd infused him with when he walked to his death in the final battle, was all testament to how much he loved them and wanted to know them and them to know him.

But…

"You wouldn't rather think of them happy, together somewhere?" he asked, to be met with narrowed eyes.

"I would rather they'd kept away from that final battle and taken responsibility for Teddy but that didn't happen," she said bitterly, lowering her voice as Teddy was making his way back to them, plate full of treats.

Harry quickly whispered. "And what sort of life would you be condemning Teddy to if one of them is at Hogwarts? How would he ever be able to leave them and live his own life knowing that they would be there every single day for all eternity? Life is for the living, Andromeda. Let him live it!"

She looked at him, shocked. Teddy walked to his Nana and held out the plate. "Is this much all right, Nana? I know it looks a lot but I had to have one of each so no one felt lonely," he said, giving his Nana an angelic smile, as only little boys can when they're trying to wheedle their way around something.

Andromeda looked unseeing at him for a moment and then at the plate as if realising what he'd said. She paled and cleared her throat. "No, of course, we can't have any of them lonely," she said, quietly. "But you sit down on the couch and eat them properly, like a grown up," she said, softer now.

Teddy nodded happily and did as he was told, sitting himself on the couch before picking up a treat in one hand and eating it in huge mouthfuls. Typical boy, Harry thought, laughing to himself.

When Andromeda looked back up at Harry, she nodded. "I understand now," she said. "I'll make sure they're not there before I send him there."

Harry smiled and hoped that neither Tonks nor Remus had decided to haunt Hogwarts. He really didn't think they had or he would have seen them on one of his trips back there when he decorated the Christmas trees each year or someone else would have seen them and he'd know about it. Instead, Harry liked to think of them somewhere together, keeping an eye on Teddy, much like James and Lily were keeping an eye on him.

All the talk about ghosts had made him think of his own situation. Would he come back as a ghost? He didn't want to but as he turned and looked at Draco, he thought that if anyone was worth it, then Draco would be. Being able to talk with him and see him all the time would be wonderful, but he didn't think he could handle the torment of not being able to touch him, to feel him or have Draco touch him in return. Nor would he be able to watch when Draco found someone else with whom to spend his life. He wanted Draco happy, of course, but he was aware of his inability to watch it happen. To see someone else touching the body that he loved so; to see Draco kissing someone else's lips…

He sighed, watching Draco laugh with his mother, then turn to look at him, smiling and happy. Draco blew him a kiss and went back to speaking with Narcissa. It was wonderful to see him so happy with his mother; it looked like they had sorted through a lot of their issues and things would be better from now on.

Lunch was a casual affair, according to Andromeda and Narcissa, though it was still much more formal than Harry was used to. Good food and decent company made for an enjoyable time and even Teddy behaved himself, much to Andromeda's pleasure.

Narcissa was a pleasant surprise, Harry found. He'd expected the aristocratic bearing and attitude he'd encountered the times he'd met her before, but now free of stress and worry about Voldemort and even her husband, and perhaps because she was almost reliant on Andromeda to live, she had gained some humility and it had transferred as warmth. Maybe it had always been there and Harry had just never had cause to see it, but she was a warm, lively person who clearly doted on her son.

"Harry," Narcissa said during lunch. "Draco has told me about your relationship with him and I would like to give you two my blessing, but I would ask you some questions first to satisfy myself that he is in good hands."

"Mother, no," Draco replied, placing a hand on her arm. "Harry has been nothing but wonderful to me and I'll not have you make him justify himself."

"No, it's all right, Draco. A parent should always watch out for their children," Harry said, giving him a slow smile before turning to Narcissa and giving her a wider smile. "What would you like to ask me?"

She placed her knife and fork on the table and gave him an inscrutable stare. "As you know, Draco found it hard to obtain decent employment until you assisted him, for which I am very grateful, but what will happen in the event that something happens to you or you break up?" she asked.

Not a bad question, really. She was very protective of Draco and wanted to ensure that whatever happened to Harry, Draco would be well cared for. He'd already organized that, of course, and he'd rather not have to reveal those details to her before Draco even knowing, but he sighed and did it anyway.

"I can assure you Draco will be well looked after," he said, ignoring Draco's protest that he didn't need to answer that. "If we split up – which won't happen," he gave Draco a warm smile. "Then our business arrangement continues. Draco rents the shop from me as any other tenant would. And no matter our personal situation, he's a good tenant and I'd be mad to lose one of those. Now, should anything happen to me," he paused and took a sip of his wine, pushing away the flash of pain and hoping it didn't show on his face. "Draco will inherit the shop from my estate," he said.

Draco sat there looking stunned; Narcissa had a satisfied smile on her face and nodded at him.

"Harry, you can't do that," Draco said, shakily.

"Of course I can. I bought the shop so you could rent it. Who better to leave it to?"

"But…"

"No buts, Draco. Of course there's a codicil," Harry said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "If I die by suspicious methods, then they'll come looking for you."

"How can you…?" Draco head snapped up to look at Harry, but stopped when he saw the gleam in his eyes. He grinned. "You bastard."

"Yes, but I'm your bastard. Now can we change the subject? Enough talk about us splitting up or me…dying. Too dark and dreary a conversation for this lovely afternoon."

The rest of the afternoon was spent alternately chatting with the ladies or playing with Teddy. They took the boy out on a broom for a bit of a clandestine spin around the countryside and suffered severe chastisement from Andromeda when they returned, flushed and breathless and laughing at their adventure.

When it was time to leave, Narcissa hugged and held on to Draco for the longest time.

"You'll come back and see me soon, won't you?" she asked Draco, tears in her eyes.

"Of course I will. Now I know you want to see me and aren't ashamed of me, I'll be back often. We both will be."

"I've never been ashamed of you, I wish you'd known that earlier," she said, voice softened by sadness.

"It's all right, mother, I know it now," he said, kissing her on the cheek and disentangling himself.

Teddy had been bouncing around, hair changing from blue to gold and purple to red.

"Bye, Harry," he said.

"Bye champ," Harry replied, ruffling his hair. "Be good and maybe next time I come back I'll bring you something special from home. How will that be?"

Teddy gasped. "Could you bring me back some Canary Creams? Sometimes when some of mum's other friends come over they bring me some."

"Canary Creams it is." Harry laughed. "Who are you going to trick with them?"

"No one special," he hedged, but he was grinning.

"Well, mind your Nana Tonks and you'll have some next time I'm here."

"I will." The boy nodded and took off back upstairs.

Goodbyes were finalised and Harry and Draco Apparated away, beginning their journey home, well pleased with how the day had turned out.

.o0o.

Draco dropped a kiss on Harry's head as he walked through to the fridge to grab some pumpkin juice the next morning.

"What did you have planed for today, love?" he asked, pouring juice into their glasses.

"Not a lot," Harry said smiling around a mouthful of cereal. At Draco's horrified look, he chewed and swallowed before continuing. "Going to see Alison for a bit, do some work on the book and then meeting you at the shop at six so we can go to Ron's for his birthday dinner."

"Right, and don't be late," Draco said, smiling. "Or I might have to punish you somehow." He gave Harry a saucy wink.

"Promises, promises," Harry shot back, playfully.

"Speaking of punishments," Draco said. "You do realise that we're going to have to sit thorough hundreds of rolls of film from their honeymoon?"

Harry laughed. "You're just jealous you haven't been to Australia."

"Oh, please," Draco scoffed. "All those poisonous snakes and the heat and the flies and the spiders as big as your hand and the sharks? You can't forget about the sharks. Who in their right mind would want to go there?"

Harry was about to say that he would love to travel there and to other places, too, but then he swallowed, remembering that he'd not really have time to go anywhere. He coughed as a piece of cereal got stuck in his throat and Draco jumped up to whack him on the back.

"This wouldn't happen if you ate like a normal person instead if a human vacuum cleaner," he insisted, amusement evident in his tone.

Airways blessedly clear again, Harry pulled Draco down for a quick kiss. "A kiss of gratitude for the hero." He grinned despite his eyes still watering from the choking.

Draco gave him a smile and returned to drinking his pumpkin juice. "Speaking of heroes," he said. "When am I going to get a look at this book on yourself that you're writing?"

Harry's eyes widened. "No one gets to see it before it's finished."

"Why not? You keep saying no one can see it, but you won't say why."

"There are many reasons," Harry said mysteriously, thinking that not the least of those reasons was that it had his thoughts about his illness, how it had affected him and the influence it had on this past eight months of his life. But he couldn't tell Draco any of that.

"I thought we shared everything, Harry," Draco said. "I just feel a bit hurt that you don't want to share this with me."

Harry could see he was serious, and it made him feel awful. More awful. "We do share everything and when this book is done, we'll share it before anyone else but, for now, because this is all new to me and I'm not sure if it's even coherent, I want to keep it for myself."

"Do you think I'll laugh at your efforts to use language correctly?" Draco asked, slightly mollified.

"No, I'm not too concerned over that. I assume whoever publishes it will have proofreaders that will correct my bad grammar and stuff. No, it's just really personal and for now I'd like to keep that private. Can you understand that?"

"Not really, but I'll respect your decision," Draco replied, sighing.

Harry tried again. "Well, it's like you not wanting to talk about your father. And how you felt about him. That's very personal and you should only talk about that when you're ready. There are things in that book that…" Harry sighed. "You'll understand when you read it," he said.

Draco nodded but still didn't look happy. Harry stood and walked to stand in front of him. "Enough sad talk on a morning like this." He smiled and leaned down to kiss his boyfriend. "Off to work with you or you'll be the one who's late for dinner tonight."

Standing, Draco pulled Harry into his arms and Harry closed his eyes to just let the feel of Draco's arms around him sink in like a protection against anything unpleasant or dangerous to them and their love. He slid his own arms around Draco's waist and nuzzled into his neck. "You're right," Draco said. "If I don't go now, I will be late." He pulled back out of the close hug, though still with his arms around Harry and he was smiling, teasing. Then he sobered a little. "You're also right about keeping some things private. One day, I'll talk about him, but not yet, so I understand.'

Nodding, Harry leant in and kissed him feeling terribly guilty for his big secret.

.o0o.

_From the moment Umbridge mocked my ability to become an Auror, I wanted to be one more than anything else. It had always just seemed like a natural progression – save the world, be an Auror. It felt like a recruiting campaign, which was what I'd become by the end and I decided to leave. Best dec_ -

"Harry!" Draco shouted through the Floo.

Harry jumped and ran to the fireplace. Draco had sounded angry or upset. "What is it?" he asked, worried.

"Where the fuck are you? It's six-thirty and you were supposed to be here half an hour ago?"

"I was?" Harry asked.

"Bloody hell, it was the last thing I said to you before I left this morning. Where is your head lately?"

Frantically, Harry thought. Why was he supposed to be at the shop at six? Was there anything special they were supposed to be doing? Anniversary? Birthday?

Oh shit! Ron's birthday.

"Hell, Draco, I'm sorry. I was writing and I just totally lost track of the time. You go ahead and I'll be there in ten minutes."

"All right, but if I have to sit through hours of film about Australia and you miss _any_ of it, you are in so much trouble. Ten minutes, Potter. And I hope you've wrapped the present."

With that Draco's head disappeared out of the fire and Harry stood there, paralysed. He'd forgotten Ron's birthday. And earlier he'd felt dizzy when he was holding Alison and so he'd handed her back, worried he might drop her. Was this the beginning of the end? He hung his head in his hands, fingers gripping so hard to his skull that Harry thought they might go through it and gouge out the vicious tumor squatting in his brain, growing fat on his cells and sapping his life.

His skin felt clammy and there was a cold sweat broken out on his body. It couldn't be possible yet; it had only been eight months. He'd have to go and see the Healer again tomorrow and organise to take the potion each week now, rather than every ten days. How long would it be before he'd need it each day?

Just give me a few more months, he begged…no one. Who could he beg? Begging the stupid tumor was ridiculous, like giving it a life of its own and while it was insidiously claiming his life, it didn't _think_, it couldn't grant _mercy_ or a reprieve. It was just a festering pustule of a malignant tumor.

Growling, he picked up his wand and used it to cast the spell to wrap Ron's gift, then he charged off to the bedroom to _Scourgify_ himself and dress. A dinner party was the last thing he wanted to attend right now, but Ron was his best friend and he had no reason not to be there, other than he felt angry enough to punch holes in the wall and miserable enough to howl about it afterwards.

And then he had to cope with Draco being pissed at him for being late. He sighed as he picked up Ron's gift and got ready to Floo through to Ron and Hermione's. It was going to be a long night.

.o0o.

The trip to see the Healer the next day wasn't all that encouraging. She gave him a sympathetic look, agreed that he should take the potion more often and asked him how he was dealing with it all.

"How am I supposed to deal with it?" Harry replied, not without a trace of impatience.

"The best way you know how or the way you feel most comfortable coping," she replied.

Irritated by her calm reasoning, Harry scowled and slouched in his chair, almost petulant. How could she know what he was going through? How could she possibly understand how sick it made him feel every time he thought of the growth in his head; every time something happened out of the ordinary that made him wonder if it was another symptom, if his numbered days suddenly had an end that was within reach? How could she understand how hard it was to wear the mask he'd fashioned for himself?

There was a very private little breakdown he had whenever he looked at Draco sleeping. The only time he allowed himself to let the ache inside him take over, let the subtle snapping of his heart be visible, was watching Draco while he slept. It was the only time around Draco that he felt safe enough to let the mask drop. For the rest of the time he had to keep his anguish carefully masked, but while Draco slept he could watch him and live every little future fantasy they'd spoken about right there in his head, right beside the man he loved.

Some of the pain must have shown on his face, because the Healer didn't say anything, just sat quietly, giving him space and time.

"I don't want to cope," Harry said, struggling to speak. "Time is ticking away too fast. We've only just found each other and… and he has all these plans for us for the future…how am I supposed to say goodbye to him?" Harry's voice broke and his shoulders shook as he tried to keep from breaking down completely. He didn't like letting anyone see him cry. Sometimes on his night-time walks he cried, sometimes when he felt strong enough to cry silently, he'd let them run down his cheek, while through the shimmer of his tears he watched Draco sleep.

"I don't know, Harry," she answered, softly. Even though it was a question that hadn't required an answer, he was glad she'd said something anyway; it was a distraction. "Maybe we're not supposed to know how to say goodbye the right way. All you can do is follow what your heart tells you to do and make sure that he has many memories of you for after."

Harry nodded, sniffing and wiping his eyes. Not that what she'd said made any difference, but it made it easier knowing that he wasn't the only one that had no answers.

"How long do you think I have left?" he asked.

"A couple of months maybe before taking the potion will make no difference."

Harry took a deep breath and then exhaled. "Right." He thought about asking for some dreamless sleep potion but he needed the emotional release his night activities gave him and Luna's tea worked well enough when things became too bad.

Besides there'd be time enough to sleep when he was dead.

.o0o.

The extra potion seemed to do the trick because, over the next two weeks, Harry didn't notice a recurrence of the memory loss or any motor function. Even the headaches seemed less. And seeing the Healer was cathartic; she was the only one he could talk to about this illness with any freedom and no matter how difficult it was, he did feel better after lettings some of his anxieties go.

And he tried to forget that he could almost hear that clock ticking down.

A lot of time was spent on his book; he felt the need to try and finish it before he didn't have the cognitive ability to write coherently any longer.

Other than meeting up with friends when he could, helping Draco in the shop at other times and spending time with Alison, he found the most joy just being around Draco.

Somehow he'd become almost a lifeline of sorts. He was trying to cram a lifetime of loving Draco into months. Sometimes he wondered if Draco thought him too intense in paying him so much close attention but, on the contrary, Draco seemed to thrive on all the attention and bloomed.

Each night would bring Harry almost to tears when he thought about how they seemed to fit, each the perfect foil for the other. Many nights they would be awake late into the night, snuggled up together in bed, just talking. Harry both loved and hated those nights.

He loved them because they were the intimate side of how he and Draco interacted as people. Compatible in bed in virtually every aspect, Harry found during these long talks that they complemented each other in personality as well and he wondered why he hadn't seen it before. Perhaps he'd not thought to look that deeply before his now almost frenetic need to know as much about Draco as he possibly could before it was all gone.

And he hated them because they reminded him of how fleeting his time was; how little he'd actually get to experience this shared joy and feeling of having found the other half of his soul.

"Did you ever see us like this before we started going out?" Draco asked him one night when they were snuggled up together in bed after a long slow session making love.

"Sometimes," he admitted. "We'd talked about being together so much that it would be odd if I hadn't imagined being with you like this. What about you?"

"All the time," Draco replied candidly, kissing Harry's jaw.

"We were idiots. We should have started seeing each other years ago when we first admitted there was some attraction."

"No, maybe not," Draco said, shifting a little in Harry's arms.

"How do you mean?"

"Half of why we are so comfortable now is that we put our friendship first back when it was in its infancy. We have a solid base here, Harry, and I think that makes a difference."

Harry held Draco tighter, resting his cheek on Draco's head. Draco's long fingers were splayed out over his chest and he could feel each one individually warm on his skin as they rested there.

"You're a lot smarter than I am about these things," he said, finally. "I would have just rushed in and assumed that the friendship would hold up under the pressure of a relationship by the very fact that I wanted it to."

"Gryffindor," Draco replied warmly. "Good thing you had me making you stop and realise that not taking time to plan and think things through could have been disastrous."

"Good thing," Harry mused, smiling lightly.

"I mean, we had all that history to get past and it wasn't going to happen overnight. Becoming friends didn't make all that just disappear, we had to build something solid as a foundation before we could take it any further."

He was right, Harry knew he was, though he was sure Draco hadn't been thinking those things when they'd decided to remain friends, or when he'd knocked back Harry's offer because he wanted to protect the friendship. Even so, Draco was right; this foundation they'd built was strong as anything he'd ever felt before.

And all this from two people for whom relationships just did not happen.

.o0o.

Easter came and life progressed as usual. Harry was still taking the potion every week and it seemed to be holding. He was also drinking the tea Luna had given him and it did help him sleep. Not that he took it every night – sometimes he needed that alone time to think.

Even though Easter was a Muggle Christian holiday there were enough in their circle with Muggle upbringings that they decided to have an Easter Egg hunt for the children. Not that Alison was old enough to go hunting for eggs, but Jasmine was and so were Bill and Fleur's children Victoire and Phillipe. Daphne had dragged along her older sister's children and Pansy had allowed Jasmine to bring three friends from the Orphanage for the day, so they were quite the motley crew at the park, all seated on picnic blankets in the cool Spring sunshine.

Harry and Draco had been out earlier that morning, setting magical wards around the area they'd like to use and hiding a plethora of Easter eggs in the grass, trees and flower beds for the children. Draco had embraced the Muggle tradition of Easter, not because of the story, but because he adored anything chocolate and any excuse for a feast of chocolate was enough. They'd spent hours scouring Muggle chocolate shops for the bags of eggs they had for the children. More nutritious food in the form of quiche, chicken, salad and early strawberries was packed into numerous picnic baskets and those, along with various multi coloured rugs, were dotted around the area they'd set aside for their hunt.

The children, all armed with their own baskets for collecting eggs, set off on their hunt, while the adults organised the real food and poured drinks. Pansy took off after her charges when Joel Norris stole an egg from Beaufort Hemplewhyte's basket and he began to cry. Neville had Alison in his arms and she was laughing at the pretty coloured paper that wrapped the eggs.

By the time the children had finished, baskets full to overflowing, the food was all unpacked and the serious business of eating and unsuccessfully trying to prevent the children from gorging on chocolate could commence. Harry was laughing at the way Jasmine seemed to take charge of the smaller kids, telling them what to do with the same attitude that Pansy used with her. He knew that should she be thwarted then she would probably have a volatile temper, too. Some traits didn't need to be passed from one generation to the next through blood, Harry laughed to himself. Much of it was learned behaviour.

Ginny and Blaise were late but arrived just as Harry was picking up his plate of chicken salad to eat. After saying hello, he began his lunch, comfortably leaning up against Draco who had decided that he wasn't a real man today and was eating quiche.

"You're looking good, Gin," Harry said, feeling wonderful today and wanting everyone else to know and feel good, too.

"Thanks, Harry. You looking to move on from the blonde bombshell and going after married redheads now are you?" she joked.

"Hardly," Draco chimed in, popping a piece of quiche he'd broken off into Harry's mouth.

"Just joking." Ginny laughed. "I'd probably not know what to do if he came after me, anyway. Been married too long."

"I'd expect to find him on the end of one of your Bat-Bogey hexes if he came after you," Blaise said, leaning in to kiss his wife's cheek.

"Ah yes." Ginny grinned. "You've not had the pleasure of suffering through one of those have you?"

Harry shook his head, laughing. "No, thank goodness."

"I have," Draco said. "And it's not an experience I'd like to repeat, thanks very much."

Harry nudged Draco. "No, I rather like your face minus the bat wings, if it's all the same to you."

"You just love me for my pretty face," Draco said, sniffing amiably.

"Of course." Harry laughed, rolling his eyes. "Why else would I love you?"

"For my devastating oral skills, perhaps? Or my massive…intelligence, maybe?"

Blaise screeched and covered his ears. "Too much information!"

"Oh bollocks, Blaise, that was perfectly innocent. I am a skilled orator and my intelligence is well known and accepted. I most certainly did not imply that I was incredibly skilled at oral sex, which I am, nor did I insinuate that my dick is massive," Draco ranted. "Which it is. What are you lot laughing at?" By the time he was done the three of them had collapsed on the ground laughing, not so much because it was hilarious, more for the incredulous look on Draco's face while he said it.

Draco joined in after a moment and they continued lunch in a lighthearted mood, enjoying the spring sunshine.

Harry was feeling very lazy after lunch and decided, that as Draco wasn't going anywhere, his lap made a nice pillow, so he rested his head there and willingly submitted to having Draco thread his fingers through his unruly mop of hair. It was gentling and relaxing and Harry could feel most of his recent tension sliding away. On a day like today, being so tenderly touched by his boyfriend under the new warmth of the sun he found it hard to let worry dominate his thoughts and mood.

And then, of course, Ron dropped down next to them and disturbed his lazy slumber, noisily feeding his face for the second time that afternoon.

"Do you ever stop eating?" Harry asked through half opened eyes.

"Nope," Ron said. "I'm a growing lad, or so I'm told."

"It's a wonder you don't look like the side of a house," Draco pointed out.

Ron shrugged. "Besides, I just spent an hour running around after those kids. Pansy's got her hands full with Jasmine hasn't she?"

"Oh, don't be fooled, Pansy loves every moment. She's already planning her coming out party," Draco drawled. "I think those two were twins in a previous life."

Ron and Harry both chuckled imagining Pansy's mouth on a six year old. Said six year old bounded over to them at that point and deliberately plonked herself down on Harry's stomach.

"Ooof, missy, watch where you're jumping!" Harry exclaimed, having very nearly had his bits damaged.

"Sorry, Mr. Harry," she said sweetly, but Harry wasn't fooled by that innocent smile. He did think it hilarious, however, that she used a semi-respectful label for him but treated him like her personal toy half the time.

"What are you after then, Miss Jasmine?" he asked.

"I wanted to ask Draco if he would give me a piggy back ride to chase Victoire. Will you, Draco?" She looked at him with those huge puppy dog eyes and Harry knew Draco wouldn't be able to resist and resigned himself to losing his pillow.

Draco made a great show of agreeing but he was as mesmerised as the rest of them by Jasmine's sweet, albeit cheeky, nature, so when she clambered off him, Harry sat up and kissed Draco good bye. "Be good and don't get dirty," he joked.

"Yes, dad," Draco said, rolling his eyes before he was dragged bodily away by an ecstatic Jasmine.

Ron looked after them, laughter twinkling in his eyes which Harry noticed because he'd turned to make a comment about Ron having his own kids soon. "What?" Ron asked when he noticed Harry looking.

"Nothing," Harry replied, happy to enjoy Ron's good mood.

"He's good for you," Ron said. "I can't remember when I last saw you so happy. I mean, you always have this look about you like you expect that the world's going to end any minute, but since you started seeing him, that's not the dominant look."

"Ok…who are you and where is Ron Weasley?" Harry said, earning himself a scowl from Ron. "Hey, I'm not the one who accused you of having the emotional range of a teaspoon." Harry laughed, holding up his hands.

Ron blushed. "Yeah, well, a bloke can grow up you know. I just reckon you always had something after you and you were waiting for the sky to fall. Now, you still have that but you're happy now and I reckon I owe you an apology."

"Accepted, mate," Harry replied.

It was really odd because, despite everything, Harry was happy and he couldn't think of a better way to spend his last months than with those he loved. It wasn't even as if he was packing his life full of extraordinary things like traveling the world, walking the Great Wall of China, climbing Mount Everest or anything spectacular like that, he was just doing normal everyday things that made him happy. He was _living_. What was even odder was that Ron Weasley had become perceptive.

Later, at home, Harry and Draco lay in bed talking over the day and what fun it had been, despite one of the kids being sick in the bushes from eating too much chocolate and despite them both ending up with chocolatey finger prints all over their clothes.

"You ever thought about having kids one day?" Draco asked as he lay in Harry's arms.

"I used to," he admitted. Not anymore, though, he added silently.

"Used to?"

"Hmm…before Pansy set her lot on to me." He laughed. Pansy had taken to begging Harry to come to the Orphanage as often as he could so he could see the progress of the kids and what was being done with his money. She also said that he was an inspiration to the kids because he was the great Harry Potter and he was an orphan too, so there was nothing these kids couldn't do if they set their minds to it. It seemed reasonable enough to Harry who wondered if Tom Riddle had had a hero would he still have been evil. And while he hated the 'hero' tag, he was practical enough to realise that it would always be there and could be used for something worthwhile, so he went and spent some time there. He loved it, he did, but the kids were exhausting at times.

"Hmm, save us from orphans and single female pre-school teachers," Draco said, and he was smiling because Harry could feel the movement of his facial muscles on his chest.

"And new mothers who feel it their duty to make sure that everyone they know realises the absolute joy of motherhood, or in our case, parenthood," Harry added, meaning Hannah who was besotted with Alison, which admittedly, was understandable.

"Yes." Draco laughed, now. "Though I find it ironic for her to say that at a time when she's elbow deep in filthy nappies and thrown up on bibs."

"Ah, but that's supposed to be when you look deep within yourself and discover the deeper, true meaning of being a parent," Harry expounded.

"And once you have them, there's no giving them back," Draco added.

"I take it that you never wanted kids," Harry said.

"I wouldn't say that," Draco replied, turning his head and resting his chin on Harry's chest, looking up at him.

"You do want kids?"

"Not yet. Someday, perhaps. Right now, I am still coming to terms with being in love with one of my best friends."

He smiled at Harry and Harry almost forgot what they were talking about. Strange clichés came to mind, like "I'll miss that smile", but how could he miss anything if he was dead? It wasn't like he was going away somewhere, complete with his corporeal body and mind and memories and feelings, where missing things like smiles and kisses and touches were even possible. Just one more thing to be angry and bitter about in this whole debacle. But whatever death was, if it were at all possible to miss anything, even one thing, he would miss the way Draco smiled at him, like no one in the world would ever see that smile but him.

"God," Harry breathed. "I'm still finding it hard to believe myself." He held Draco's eyes with his own, drinking in the smile in them and the love. His heart pierced and turned over at knowing how he was deceiving him. _I'm so sorry, Draco._

"So, one day we'll have kids," Draco said, softly.

"I couldn't imagine anyone I'd want to have kids with more than I want to have them with you," Harry replied, honestly.

"Me either," Draco said leaning up to tenderly kiss Harry's lips. "And we're lucky being men." He grinned. "We get to have all the practice of making a baby and none of the results."

Harry laughed, the mood lightened. Somehow, Draco always could put a smile on his face these days. He remembered back in school how even the thought of Malfoy made him scowl.

"How would we go about it then?" he asked, interested to hear just how Draco thought they might make having children happen.

"The practice?" Draco asked with a teasing lilt to his eyebrow. "You need a refresher course?"

"No, my bum is quite sore enough, thanks," Harry replied. "I think I remember how to do that part. I meant how would we go about having kids? Adoption? What did you have in mind?"

"Well, we have a few choices, Harry," Draco said, serious again. "Adoption, we find a woman who will carry a child for us, either of us, and we either have sex with them or…"

"What, there's no secret potion or spell that can make the child biologically ours?" he asked, joking.

"Harry!" Draco laughed. "No, not even wizards can do that. Besides, I wouldn't want to carry a child in this gorgeous body." Said gorgeous body began rubbing along Harry's side.

"Hmm," Harry said. "What would you choose? Adoption? I can't imagine either of us sleeping with someone else. Well, I know I wouldn't want you to, anyway."

"No, I couldn't ever share this sort of intimacy with anyone else again, either. And we'd have to check and see if adoption was legal for same sex couples. Pansy had enough trouble until that sudden approval came through."

Harry blushed. He'd not told anyone about that. He wondered if Kingsley had had the law changed for everyone or just for Pansy. He'd never bothered to check as he'd achieved the desired result. Not that it mattered anymore, not for him, anyway. "Yeah, we should check on that," he said absently.

"But that's way off in the future, I want time to spend with you all to myself first." Draco sighed and snuggled up to Harry as he yawned and fell asleep.


	15. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: Not Mine.

* * *

Author's Notes: This is the second last chapter guys, and this is where it starts to hurt. :(

jamie

xxx

* * *

_ For some reason, speaking of fate and destiny, mortality and grief_

_holds no interest for me at this point in my life. _

_I've been there, done that all too often._

_After the war, Hermione used to make me read some of her books on _

_philosophy, which is where some of the quotes came from_

_that I use as chapter headings in this book._

_She said that after having the near-death (or death) experience_

_that I should find out more about it. _

_But, you know, after the dust settles from getting all worked up_

_over emotional pondering of these deep universal themes, _

_nothing changes. _

_New insight makes no difference to the outcome, _

_no difference to anything. _

_It doesn't even give you a new perspective on things. _

_So, it's all rather pointless. _

_Harry Potter, June 2006_.

...

"What do you want to do for your birthday this year?" Harry asked Draco about a week before the big day. Things had been going fairly well for him; there were some small indications that his 'condition' was pushing its way through the weekly potion again about three weeks ago, so he'd started taking it every 4 days, and he seemed to be back on an even keel again. For now. There would come a time when even taking the potion every day wouldn't cover it up and then he knew that would be the time to tell Draco.

But that wasn't now and now was where he wanted to be.

Draco stretched in bed, his lithe body tense and muscles taut for a moment before he relaxed and rolled on to his side, snuggling back into Harry. Harry's arm wrapped around him, stroking the soft skin of his shoulder and arm. God, he loved touching Draco.

"I was thinking of something a bit different seeing as there are kids with the group and we had so much fun at Easter. It will be summer, so how about the beach?"

Harry was a bit shocked with that pronouncement. Draco was once more comfortably well-off with the success of his shop. In fact, he'd started paying rent back in February and had also just about repaid Harry's loan as well. Therefore, he'd assumed Draco would revert back to enjoying those higher-class things like expensive restaurants or trips overseas or expensive designer clothes. Well, he did spend a lot of money on decent clothes but that was generally his only extravagance. Instead, he had chosen to go to the beach?

"All of us?" Harry asked, still a bit shell-shocked.

"Why not? We could find a nice, clean, quiet beach and all spend the day enjoying the sun, trying to eat ice-cream before it melts and running to wash the melted bits off in the water. I remember doing that as a child," Draco said, fond remembrance in his voice.

"I've never been to the beach," Harry said.

"Well, that's settled then. I'm going to the beach for my birthday." He grinned like a kid at Christmas.

"I guess we are," Harry said, thinking that he was so glad to be doing this before it was too late and he wondered why he'd not thought of doing it before. He kissed Draco on the head. "I'll tell the others. We'll make it on a Sunday though, that way everyone can come. Maybe your mother might come over?"

"That would be brilliant if she would," Draco said. "And Teddy and Aunt Andromeda."

"Great," Harry grinned. _I'm going to the beach_, he thought happily.

.o0o.

A week later, preparations were underway for what Harry termed the 'expedition of the year'. Because, of course, no trip to the beach could possibly be a matter of shorts, a towel, sunglasses, sunscreen, sandals and a bucket and spade. No, it needed to include coolers for cold drinks, bags of toys for the children, enough food to feed an army, changes of clothes, sun shades, body boards, cameras and assorted other paraphernalia in accordance with whatever Pansy decided Jasmine might need.

Eventually, they all arrived on Llanddwyn beach in Northern Wales. Luckily, due to the relative inaccessibility of the beach it was not over populated with other beach goers. It didn't take them long to set up the sun shades and lay towels on the sand, leaving Harry free to have a good look at the sea. He wandered barefoot in the warm sand down to the water's edge, captivated by the small ripples that seemed to chase his toes up the sand and the way the early summer sun glinted in grey tints off the tips of the waves. He was standing there, smiling, when Draco walked up behind him and slipped his arms around his waist.

"Do you like it?" he asked, kissing Harry's ear with his sun-warmed lips.

"It's so…huge," Harry replied, leaning into him, using Draco's arms like an anchor holding him to this world. "It makes you feel so small and insignificant in the universe, seeing how endless this is."

"Never insignificant," Draco said. "I always think that because I'm standing on the sand right where the waves roll in, that I'm standing on the edge of the world, and I could step in and be swallowed up by the universe if I let it, but I could also float and be a part of that universe instead."

"Kind of like saying that you can choose how it affects you by altering how you adapt to it?"

"That sounds about right," Draco said. "But enough deep thinking for today. It's my birthday party and I want to have some fun."

Harry nodded and turned his head to kiss Draco's cheek, then grinned and dragged him by the hand into the waves, still fully clothed. Draco yelped of course and spluttered about the seawater ruining his decent clothes when Harry splashed him, but when a particularly well aimed splash of water splattered in his face, he gasped.

'Right, this means war," he yelled and gave a loud whoop, before scooping as much water as he could into his hands and swooshing it towards Harry.

Harry merely laughed and ran away, wading deeper into the water, ignoring the fact that he still had his clothes on; a drying charm would take care of those later. This was simply too much fun. The water was cold as it was still early summer; the days not yet long enough and warm enough to heat the water. But he loved how it tingled and fizzed against his skin; how it made the hairs on his arms and legs sit up and take notice.

On the beach, he could just make out the others shedding clothes down to their swim trunks and bathing costumes, before running through the shallow water to join them but he ignored them and changed direction, running towards Draco instead. When he came close enough, he leapt at him, hands finding Draco's shoulders which he pushed. Draco made a startled squeaking noise, staggered under both their weights and fell backwards, creating a large splash.

Still chuckling when he came up for air, Harry brushed the wet hair from his face and eyes and looked around in the waist deep water for Draco. It was a lucky thing that he'd left his glasses back on the beach or he would have lost them by now; but he lamented the fact that he had such bad eyesight that he needed them. Right now, specifically, because he couldn't for the life of him see where Draco had gone. He'd disappeared.

Frantically he searched, bleary eyed both from drips of water sliding down his forehead out of his hair and the fact that he was as blind as a bat without his glasses. Just about ready to call everyone else to come and help look, something grabbed his legs and pulled hard, making him fall under the water in a flail of hands and feet.

When he finally found his feet again, it was to hear Draco laughing at him.

"Gotchya!" he sang, dancing out of the reach of Harry's grabbing hands, trying to get revenge. But he loved every minute of it; this was turning out to be the best day he could remember in such a long time.

Then Seamus, Blaise and Ron ganged up and all jumped on him at the same time dunking him again and he wasn't so sure anymore.

Later, after he and Draco claimed victory when they seized all three protagonists' swimming trunks and yanked them down, leaving them flailing and trying to cover themselves and not trip over the shorts round their ankles, he felt it was definitely the best day ever. There'd been a couple of times when his left arm felt shaky and weak but it had obeyed him when he concentrated on it, so he placed that worry where it belonged. For another time. Nothing was going to ruin this day.

There were sandcastles to build and by tacit agreement they let the kids win; Jasmine deciding that her pink headband made a much better flag than Draco's underwear. No one disagreed but Harry. He quite liked Draco's underwear thanks very much, especially if it meant Draco wasn't wearing it.

Harry decided that Luna's sandcastle was the best. Mind, hers looked like a traditional Muggle mermaid. Harry had no idea how she'd made the tail look like it had battlements and a moat, but covered with seaweed and rocks and some left over pieces of fruit, the entire thing looked a bit like a cross between The Little Mermaid and Carmen Miranda.

Only Seamus and Hermione knew who that was and they laughed and agreed when Harry mentioned it; everyone else just rolled their eyes and carried on.

There was, of course, food and birthday cake to eat – after they'd sung the appropriate song. Draco had insisted they not clap once for each year at the end of the song, saying he'd rather not remember he was getting older, but he gave in gracefully when Jasmine began to clap anyway.

Ginny had bought along a couple of Quaffles from a Quidditch set and they set up a sort of ground Quidditch game, tossing Quaffles to each other and running to throw them through some 'goals' made of sticks stuck in the sand. The girls played the boys at first but after one too many rough tackles, the girls gave up and let the boys play by themselves. Plus Ginny. She refused to stop playing, calling them all wimps and boasting that she put up with worse on the Quidditch pitch.

She changed her tune when she was on the bottom of a stack of boys, though. Out of breath and laughing her head off, she stormed up the beach yelling that Blaise needn't think he was getting sex for a while. The rest of the boys all commiserated with Blaise and Harry and Draco playfully offered their services in a mock seduction scene, which scandalised some of the other people on the beach, but left everyone else sending them wolf whistles and cat calls.

Much later, as the sun was slowly dropping into the sea casting the soft brilliant hues of orange and red and purple shooting across the bases of the few clouds that lingered, Harry and Draco walked, hand in hand along the beautiful sand. The crash of the waves sending fizzing floods of water over their toes made them dance and also made them smile at each other.

Harry caught Draco in his arms and kissed him soundly as a rogue late breaking wave crashed over their knees, making them sway in the sudden cold water.

"This has been the best day," Draco said, arms sliding up Harry's back under his t-shirt.

"I never knew the beach was such fun," Harry said, looking into Draco's face, seeing the sun drenched skin with tiny crystals of salt hiding in his eyebrows. He was glad that Draco had been so adamant about sun protection all day; it meant that they had been able to enjoy the sunshine and remain free from sunburn. And with Draco's pale skin, Harry was sure he'd burn easily.

"We came here when I was little," Draco said resting his head on Harry's shoulder, moving into Harry's arms naturally. Father and mother never deigned to play on the beach like we have, but I had fun making sandcastles and swimming."

Harry smiled, his skin feeling tight and stretched over his bones, the result of a long day in the warm sun. It felt…perfect. There was no other way to describe the day and how he felt right now. There was a man he'd come to love warm and affectionate in his arms after a wonderful laughter filled day in the sun. What could ever be better than that? He could hardly articulate how grateful he was to Draco for allowing him to experience such pleasure with him.

"I can just see you on the beach as a small child. I bet you terrorised everyone." Harry kissed Draco's temple, feeling him shake with laughter.

"And you'd be right. I used to complain that we couldn't bring the house-elves and so I'd set off on expeditions to find my way home or sometimes I'd just disappear for the sake of it. I knew they didn't really want to be there and were only doing it to indulge their only child, so I'd make life hard for them. I was a right little shit."

"Dudley teased me once about going to the beach," Harry said, softly. "They'd been away for two whole weeks and I'd had to stay with Mrs. Figg and her cats. When he came home he'd lost some weight and, what was worse, he had a tan and you can't imagine how much more formidable he looked to a six year old with a tan as compared to pasty white he was normally."

Harry wondered what had become of Dudley. The last time he'd seen him, they'd not parted on bad terms. Perhaps he should contact him and see what he was up to. Should he sort of inform them that he was dying? It wasn't as if they cared or anything but did he owe them that? To at least make them aware that he wasn't going to be around much longer?

"He sounds like a right bully," Draco said.

Shrugging lightly, Harry looked away to watch the waves rolling over themselves. "I suppose. In the end he was decent; he just had his parents' bias to overcome. Like someone else I know." Harry smiled and looked back at Draco, who was rolling his eyes and pulling back.

Draco took Harry's hand and pulled him back up onto the sand and out of the water. "Where are we going?" he asked.

"I remember what else I used to do when I was here," he replied enigmatically.

"What was that?"

"Hide in the sand dunes."

"And why would we want to do that, Mr. Malfoy?"

"So I can wrap myself around your hot body and you can fuck me as part of my birthday present," Draco replied, simply.

Harry growled. "Race you there."

.o0o.

The happy glow that surrounded Harry from his day at the beach lingered for more than a few days afterwards. Harry couldn't remember when he'd ever been so happy. Every day, he was being drawn more and more into loving Draco, until now the man had filled his soul as well as his heart. It was in the little things Draco did, like always kissing him good morning and always kissing him goodnight, like little promises of love, of commitment.

Draco made coffee better than anyone Harry knew and he never failed to have a cup ready and waiting for Harry in the morning, nor after a meal. No matter that he didn't drink it himself; he'd taken it upon himself to find out how Harry liked his coffee and then made sure that Harry had the best available. And that's all there was to it. This thoughtful side of Draco wasn't always readily visible to anyone else; in fact most people when they met him took him to be more aloof and detached. To his friends, though and to Harry, whom he loved, he was extremely thoughtful.

Harry still felt guilt at not telling Draco how ill he was, but the very fact of the closeness of the end now pushed it away. Draco was happy; and Harry was trying the best he could to make sure that Draco stayed happy. In love and happy. Now that they'd fallen in love, Harry wanted it to be the love of a lifetime, despite that it would be short lived.

It was a flying incident about a week after the beach day that sent Harry to the Healer every day. He and Draco had gone flying just for fun. Harry had organised a picnic lunch out in an isolated spot on a hillside and begged Draco to leave the shop in the capable hands of his new assistant, an older woman who was extremely efficient and was definitely not after Draco's body or his money or anything else apart from her job.

They'd had the best fun, zipping through the sky and skimming treetops dangerously. Draco had demurred at first, not wanting to take the risk of serious injury, but Harry had dared him.

"You scared?" Harry taunted.

"No," Draco scoffed. "Just worried that if anything happens to me you won't get your money back."

Harry could tell he was worried and to be fair, just because Harry didn't have as much to lose he shouldn't be egging Draco on, but he had faith in Draco's skills. "You can do it," Harry cajoled.

Reluctantly, Draco agreed and they sped off, wind racing through their hair and tousling it crazily. After a few moments Draco relaxed and was as daring as Harry, flying as close to the tops of the trees as he could without touching them and sending himself spinning off course and crashing.

Harry felt it in his grip before he felt it in his arm, the muscles in his left arm weakened suddenly and his trajectory got thrown off, which meant he had to immediately correct it. He just about succeeded, but clipped the top of a tree, sending him spinning away, thankfully not down into the trees, but up into the air. With only one hand to try and pull himself back into line, his grip slipped and he fell sideways, only just managing to hang on to the broom with his one good hand.

For one breathless moment, Harry's fate rested on whether or not he could continue to hang on until Draco caught up to him. Then some ability to function returned to his arm and hand and he managed to drag himself back on the broom and bring it under control. White faced and shaking he let Draco berate him for being irresponsible for a while until he'd recovered, stopping Draco's tirade with a kiss when they landed back at the picnic site.

After that, he went to the Healer every day and he heard the clock ticking louder.

It heralded a shift in Harry's perspective. Daily potions meant that he probably only had a few weeks left and it seemed like things slowed down. All the things he'd wanted to do had been done. There were things he'd still love to do – he'd love to have another hundred years with Draco, for instance, but almost a year ago he'd decided how he'd wanted to live the last year of his life and he'd done that. He'd done that and more.

In a bout of nostalgia, and needing to be reminded just how much he'd been able to live the life he wanted, he got out the Christmas film one night after Draco was asleep, and watched it in the dark, curled up under a blanket on the couch to keep warm. The laughter and the hilarity of the Christmas film were not overshadowed by his darkened mood; rather it rendered him poignantly emotional. So, when Draco slipped in and snuggled up to his side to watch with him, Harry felt grateful and clung to him happily.

He was preparing for the ending now and there was a peace in him that was fatalistic. Different than the last time he'd faced certain death; he didn't feel like he'd left things half done this time, although even the thought of leaving Draco was ripping him apart inside. Things appeared to be falling into place for an ending. It was quite odd, Harry realised, that things with Draco didn't seem to be able to get any better, all his friends were happy and doing well, his book was almost finished – even his life was preparing him for his death. He was extremely relieved that the tumor hadn't attacked his intellectual faculties, mainly his physical ones with the odd memory lapse added in for good measure.

But he was too pragmatic to think that would remain the case and he was just glad that the bulk of his book was done.

_There's parts of me that resent seeing my friends just carry on with their lives as though nothing is wrong, as though this thing isn't happening to me and isn't going to kill me soon. _

_Then I realise that's exactly the reason why I haven't told them about it. I don't want their lives to change while I go through this._

_Rejoicing in their lives is what keeps me sane and happy. I've never been as happy as my life has made me this past year. And three weeks ago at Draco's birthday – it was close to the best day of my life. One last shining moment…_

Harry stopped typing and looked down at his hands where they rested on the keyboard. For some reason the left one had stopped working. All right, not for _some_ reason; Harry knew very well the reason why it was happening and he thought he would calmly wait for feeling to come back into it just like last time on the broom a couple of weeks ago.

After a few minutes he tried to move his hand from where it rested on the desk but it wouldn't move. He tried moving the arm through moving his shoulder and it moved then, but fell uselessly off the desk and hung by his side. He stared at it uncomprehendingly for a few more minutes, expecting at any time the feeling and movement would come back.

Then he tried yelling at it, but no matter how much he tried or cursed at his blasted hand, it would not work.

"Come on you stupid cunt of a thing," he yelled. So maybe he wasn't as ready for the end as he'd thought. He supposed that you never really knew how you'd feel when the actual time came, no matter what you thought or planned or said or even felt.

"Not now, please," he begged, concentrating on it hard, as if he looked at it long enough he could will it to work with magic or something.

"Fuck," he yelled, standing up and kicking the table.

Maybe…maybe he could take the potion twice a day? Even he didn't believe that one. But he could check, right? Go and see the Healer and ask?

Right. A desperate last ditch effort to prolong how much time he'd have with Draco, who thankfully was at work. Dread swept over him anew at the thought of telling Draco they were over. How could he break it off? He'd not planned that part. Could he just leave? Disappear somewhere to die in peace? His thoughts were all confused and swirling around in a panic.

First things first. He'd go and see the Healer one last time and make sure that there was nothing else to be done and then he'd come home, cook Draco a nice meal and tell him that – what? Maybe he was going away for a few weeks to do some research for his book?

No. He told himself not to be so bloody ridiculous and cowardly. It had to be done right. Draco deserved that, at least.

Heart in his throat, threatening to burst through to his mouth, Harry tossed some Floo powder in the fireplace and stepped through to the Healer's Office.


	16. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: Not Mine.

* * *

Author's Note: Well, this is it, guys. The last chapter. There is an epilogue to come and it's a really important epilogue, not one to be disregarded. I would have included it as the next chapter, but it is about _after_ and as such isn't just the next chapter. Just a small warning here...this is a fairly short chapter and the reason for that is that this story was never meant to be about Harry's death, rather it was written to show his life. However, this last chapter _had _to be written but not dwelt on too much, hence the shortness.

Hopefully, it fills the need for you while reminding you of how much these two loved each other.

I'll probably post the epilogue nearer the end of the week, rather than making you wait a whole week for it. I'm feeling the need for closure myself.

Enjoy.

Jamie

xxx

* * *

_Who was it that said the best laid plans…_

_Harry Potter, July, 2006_.

...

It seemed that being in urgent need of advice didn't automatically ensure you an immediate appointment, even if your name was Harry Potter. He'd had to wait three hours to see his Healer and by the time he was eventually shown into the consulting room, he'd convinced himself that there was nothing further to be done anyway. The feeling and movement had not returned to his arm, and he had the impression that it was permanent. No matter how much potion he took now, there was no hiding it anymore, no putting it off, and the sheer magnitude of that impact almost had him on his knees.

"I'm sorry, Harry, there's nothing more we can do," the Healer said, visibly upset. She was running her wand over Harry's head, casting the revealing spells to detect the size of the tumor and how much it had integrated itself into Harry's brain.

He merely nodded; it confirmed his own opinion. "How long?" he asked.

"A few weeks at most," she said, subdued into a barely audible response.

Harry gave a wry smile. "And so it ends."

"Harry, there are places you could go to get the palliative care you need. They'd look after you until the end, make sure you weren't in any pain…"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "If there were any hope…but there isn't, so what's the point of becoming so dependent on someone to take care of everything for me? I'd be a shell. There's no quality of life there. None. I don't want to wreck what's been the best year of my life by living through that, when I won't ever get better."

She hugged him and he allowed his despair come to the surface then and let it out, crying on her shoulder in gulping shudders for a few minutes, before thanking her for everything she'd done for him and saying goodbye.

"That's another reason I don't want to hang around. I'm terrible with good byes," he feebly joked, choking on the smile.

"It's been an honour, Harry," she replied, hugging him again, before letting him go, which in the end he found difficult to do, because it meant he had to go home and break up with Draco.

And somehow that hurt more than knowing there was a bottle of pills secreted in his bottom drawer for later.

.o0o.

By the time Harry stepped back though the Floo to go home, the last thing on his mind was how long he'd been away and whether or not Draco was going to be home when he got there.

So to find him sitting at Harry's desk, reading something on the computer screen was a complete shock to him. Fuck.

He paled as Draco turned to face him, a look of such utter betrayal and pain in his eyes that it physically hurt Harry to look at him. It left him speechless, unprepared to deal with this at all. Despite the niggling thought that maybe exposure had done his work for him; he still felt the shame spreading itself through him.

"How long have you known?" Draco's quiet, tightly controlled voice cut across the room.

Harry swallowed hard. "For about a year now," he replied.

"Were you ever planning on telling me or was I supposed to wake up one morning and find you…" He broke off, shaking his head.

"No one was supposed to know," Harry said. "I didn't want anyone to know."

"Why?"

Harry gave a one sided shrug; it seemed like his shoulder wasn't working now, either. The pain of this scene was a dull ache in his chest; shame and regret combining to fatigue his already overloaded psyche. "I didn't want--"

"It's always about you, isn't it?" Draco sneered at him. "I can't believe I ever thought you were any different than in school. You're still the same selfish, arrogant, self centered arse that thinks the world revolves around him."

Harry scowled, face reddening in anger. "I'm the one dying here," he retorted. "I'm not going to apologise for wanting a say in how I spent the last months of my life! Not to you, not to anyone."

Draco stood up from the desk, his whole body radiating confusion and anger and loss. He paced; hands, long pale fingers, pushing relentlessly through his hair. Fine blond hair that Harry loved to let slide though his fingers. Harry stayed silent; this was Draco's arena in which to rage and confront and battle the cause of his pain.

"Did you never think of me? Did I not have a right to know _before_ you…before we…Oh god, before I fell in love with you?" Draco's voice broke and the last words were virtually sobbed.

"I'm sorry," Harry said. It wasn't enough; this was one time there wasn't anything he could do to fix things. For every imagined or real upset this past year, where he'd been there with words or time or money, there were some things he couldn't repair, or make right, or hide from.

Perhaps he'd been hiding from his illness the whole time; but that was what he'd chosen. To live his life how he wanted.

"Explain it to me, Harry," Draco demanded, getting himself back under control. "Explain to me why you would deliberately start a relationship with me when you knew you were dying." His voice caught on the last word and Harry couldn't bear to look into his eyes; couldn't bear to watch them shatter with acceptance.

Before he answered, he moved to the couch and sat down, lifting his left arm with his right, to sit it in his lap. "I didn't expect to fall in love. I didn't expect you to, either. When we started all this, we were first and foremost friends. Neither of us thought we could have a relationship, let alone fall in love with each other. I thought you'd be able to treat it as losing a friend rather than losing a great love." Harry spoke quietly, resigned. After all, apart from hurting Draco so much, there was nothing else he regretted, not even withholding the information from his friends.

"You're a selfish arse, Harry," Draco hissed. "You selfish, selfish, selfish _bastard_! Everything was a complete lie! The bet…the offer…oh, now I get it. I was just someone you _used_ so you had a convenient fuck."

"No, Draco, no." Harry shook his head miserably, knowing that it was true. Essentially. It had started as companionship, an easy casual relationship. Crude though Draco made it sound it was no less the truth.

"I hate you, you disgust me," Draco said scornfully.

"I love you," Harry replied, feebly. "I never expected to, but I do."

Words were useless against Draco's right to be angry.

"I can't even hit you." Draco sneered, disgusted, and turned to try and punch a hole in the wall instead. He yelled, screaming in rage and pain and Harry finally broke down and sobbed as Draco's harsh cries became quiet, lost sniffles of loss and he heard him sliding down the wall to sit on the floor.

When Harry looked at him after minutes of the soft sounds of broken lives and dreams, it was like looking at the Draco of his sixth year at school, only this time he wasn't standing, he was slumped against the wall, legs splayed carelessly in front of him. The trauma of the tragedy was fresh on his face; the desperate, haunted, lost look of desolation were all the same. And this time Harry wished Draco would cast _Cruciatus_ at him. He wouldn't even fight back.

"You didn't think I should be able to choose whether or not I involved myself in a relationship with you, knowing that you were going to die?"

"There was always the chance you'd pity me and be with me because I wasn't going to be around forever. With us being good friends, can you tell me you'd have said no, knowing it was something I wanted and you'd only have to do it for a year?"

"I should have had the choice," Draco insisted in an oddly flat voice. He stood, nursing the hand that had met the wall so forcefully, unsteady on his feet, like his whole world had tilted on its axis and wasn't where he thought it was any more.

"And if you had, would you still have been with me?" Harry enquired, asking the question that was impossible not to ask even if he was too afraid to know the answer.

Draco stood for a while, inhaling deeply as if re-centering himself in this new world, and when he turned and looked at Harry, the shutters had come down over his eyes.

They told that Draco was rebuilding his shield; that the hard won openness he'd learnt and fought for since the war, was being hidden as if it were corrosive, under a cool exterior of impassivity.

It hurt, but he expected it. He hated himself for being the cause of Draco needing that.

'That's a ridiculous fucking question, Potter." Draco snapped. "How can I answer that now? I wasn't in love with you back then. The perspective is different." He thought for a moment and then turned suddenly. "Actually, I can answer that," he said briskly, as he walked over to stand in front of Harry, who had to look up to see Draco's face, he was that close. When he saw Draco's eyes, grey as steel, hard as nails, he wished he could look away. "Speaking of altered perspectives. The answer is no, Potter. Is that what you wanted to hear to vindicate your manipulation of the relationship?"

Harry could hear the lie in there; the need to lash out, for revenge at something, and with his hand already obviously hurting and the avenue of hitting Harry removed from his choices; he'd gone for words.

Harry held Draco's gaze for long enough to let him know he knew it was a lie. Eventually, Draco issued a sound of frustrated defeat and looked away. "Because I wouldn't have been able to watch you die, Harry. I still can't." His shoulders slumped; the so recently erected shield ruined already.

"I wouldn't have let you. Never." Harry ended on a whisper, his throat full of sorrow as Draco retreated back to the desk chair.

When he sat, his gaze caught the computer screen and he groaned and stabbed at the off button.

"So, how was I supposed to find out? After you were dead?" Bitter tones broke through the grief and Harry winced, not at the words but at the tone. He shook his head.

"I was coming home to end it with you tonight." In more ways than one, that was, but Draco didn't need to know that.

"Why?" The shock on his face, now, showed his confusion.

"Because the potion I've been taking to mask the symptoms isn't working anymore and I only have a few weeks left," he said, quietly. "I didn't want you to watch that."

Draco jumped up again and began pacing, lithe body even now drawing Harry's eyes inappropriately. "Weeks?" he said faintly.

"If that." Harry nodded.

Draco shook his head. "I can't…can't just watch you go, now. I…"

"Just go, Draco. I want you to."

"Just so you know, I hate you, now. You made me fall in love with you…all the plans we made, all the fun we had and now I have to just go on without you. I hate that you've done that to me. I don't care what justification you have for it; it changes nothing, Harry."

Harry merely nodded, heart broken and eyes bleary from the tears that were somehow filling them like a dripping tap.

"I'm going to Pansy's. I can't be here anymore. I can't be with someone who used me and manipulated me like that. It's not honest, Potter. You're not honest and I worked too hard and too long to go back to being someone that's not me."

"The love isn't fake, Draco. Never think that," Harry said, standing up, protesting. "It was never fake, I love you more than I've ever loved anything in my entire life!"

Draco held up his hand. "Stop. I don't want to hear it. It doesn't matter now. It's over. Over." Draco stood there as if he'd said the word automatically, and having said it, also realised the awful truth of it. "Over," he repeated, nodding.

And he Apparated away.

.o0o.

It was really for the best, Harry knew it was; he'd told himself over and over that this was the way it was always going to be. No one had told him how hard it was to let go of someone who had the other half of his soul. The reality of it hit him worse than the diagnosis of his illness. Maybe because he wasn't only hurting himself - he'd hurt someone else. He could only imagine how much Draco was hurting right now and his heart grieved for his love.

As he walked around the flat, putting things to rights, straightening a cushion on the couch, picking up a stray coffee cup and washing it awkwardly in the sink with one hand, he thought about their history and how much they'd both changed and grown since that day in Madame Malkin's robe shop. His eyes lingered over photographs of the two of them taken during this year. He'd been a little manic about taking photos – maybe for them all to remind themselves how happy he'd been this past year when they got despondent about him being gone. They'd given him memories he wanted to keep always and if he could, then he wanted this last year to come with him.

Sitting at the desk he withdrew a number of sheets of parchment and wrote his goodbyes before heading into the bedroom where reminders of Draco surrounded him with their warmth, sheltering his grief with the love they'd shared. No, he didn't regret one moment of the last year. Not one, and he'd do it all over again, too, given the chance. Except that he'd hurt Draco and that was truly a regret. He hoped that the memories they'd made would eventually break the surface of Draco's grief and give him some comfort.

The goodbye letter had not been as hard as he'd thought; though he guessed that the trauma he'd just experienced with Draco would have been enough to dull any further sharp pain. And he'd felt a moment's thankfulness that the loss of function in his arm was his left arm and not his right; he'd wanted his letter to be handwritten, not the impersonal print of the computer.

There wasn't really anything left to do. Mr. Tort was well briefed on all things legal and he'd made sure that everyone was taken care of and all the legal things tied up. He'd written a note about his affairs and attached it to the back of his goodbye/explanation letter to his friends. He'd written a separate letter to Draco, though everything had already been said, it was more a thank you note.

_Thank you for the gift of your love and best year of my life_.

Some, he knew, would regard his actions as cowardice, giving in and going the easy way, without a fight or a battle, being defeated without being conquered. Maybe it was pride that he wanted no one to see what he'd be reduced to. When people remembered him they should remember him as young and strong and if not beautiful, then not ruined or ravaged or disfigured or disabled from a disease, at least. Get out while the going was good. Wasn't that the saying? Leave while you're on top and not wallowing in the mire of paralysis, physical and mental disabilities that would render him completely incapable of speech, coherent thought and action.

Maybe it was a desire not to see himself like that. Not to be conquered – maybe he just didn't like to lose. And seeing as there was no beating this, he was going to take from it the only way he could. The control of when he died was his. As much control as he could grab, he'd take and that meant choosing the time of his own death.

In the silence of the flat, he poured himself a glass of water. Where silence had once been his enemy, now he welcomed it. Silence never really was silence, was it? It was filled with the echoes of memory, the rich cadence of the sounds of laughter rippling through the walls kept captive by the boundaries of his mind.

The pills were in his bottom drawer and he extracted them reverently and placed them on the bedside table. His Healer had reluctantly given them to him after they'd discussed every nuance of his desire to do things this way. He sat on the edge of his bed, smiling at the memory of her acquiescence when she threw her hands in the air and stormed out of the room. His stubbornness seemed to have that effect on people.

It was time. Coward or not, his time had come and the calm that had accompanied him since Draco left, fluttered and twisted and finally settled again. There was a picture on the table near the lamp by his bed of himself and Draco at Christmas, in amongst all the exploding fireworks George had let off and the mess on the table. He'd been laughing and Draco moved to his side in amongst the chaos and put his head on Harry's shoulder and laughed as well, eyes alight with amusement and peace. Happiness. The picture Harry and Draco turned and waved to him, then kissed before a balled up serviette clocked Harry on the head and they returned to the chaos. It always made him smile remembering that almost perfect day. There had been so many over the past year. Now, he ran the tip of his finger along picture Draco's jaw and sighed. "Goodbye, love."

It was time.

.o0o.

The door banged open just as he was lifting the pills to his mouth.

He looked up in shock at Draco standing in the doorway, eyes puffy from crying but wide open and desperate.

"What are you doing?" Draco cried. Harry was so stunned he didn't even move, let alone answer him. Draco took the pills from his hand and tossed them away.

"Why did you do that?" Harry yelled. "If you've come for your things, get them and leave me alone!"

"I've not come for my things you bloody fool. Against my better judgement, I've decided that I can't bloody stop loving you after all," he said, sounding terribly put out about it.

"Well, I don't want you here, so it makes no difference."

"I'm not going anywhere, Harry," Draco insisted and sat down on the bed beside him.

"Draco, no…" Harry said, shaking his head. No, this was not happening.

"I mean it, Harry," Draco replied, pulling Harry into his arms. "When I said I loved you, I meant it and I mean to go on loving you until you're not here to love any more."

Draco was shaking and Harry could hear how hard it was for him to get those words out, but he couldn't believe this was happening and he still didn't want Draco to watch him deteriorate.

"Draco, please, I don't want you to see me die."

"And I'm not ready to let you go, Harry. I can't explain how much of a difference you've made in my life, but you're everything to me. Please, let me say goodbye properly?"

Harry turned and buried his face in Draco's shoulder, craving the strong arms around him and the hard chest under his ear.

"I don't know if I can," he sobbed.

"Just give me one more day? Just give me tomorrow?" he asked, whispering the words against Harry's cheek, warm loving breath wafting across his skin and marking the words as a plea he couldn't deny.

He nodded and Draco let out a soft sob and they held each other while the tears flowed silently down their faces.

The next day, Draco begged for one more day and Harry sobbed his reply into Draco's chest.

And the next.

And the day after that…


	17. Epilogue

Disclaimer: Not Mine.

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Author's Notes: This is the time to say goodbye to something that has been very close to my heart for such a long time. I started this fic back in November for NaNo and finished it in December. It's the longest thing I've ever written and both the hardest and easiest story to tell.

I just want to thank all of you who've come along with me for the ride. Through all the tears and joy and pain of this journey, I hope I've managed to touch a few with Harry's story. I know I have appreciated every single comment.

I've always felt that we don't get to choose who we love, or who loves us back. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't and all we can do is hang on to it when it does because more often than not we don't get our happy ever afters, either.

jamie.

xxx

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** Daily Prophet Death Notices. August 15th, 2006.**

Deceased: Harry James Potter 31.07.1981 to 22.07.2006 died peacefully at home after a short illness. His partner, friends and family were in attendance. A private memorial service was held at an undisclosed location shortly thereafter.

.o0o.

**Front page of the Daily Prophet, December 15th, 2006.**

In a special release before the holiday season, the Potter Foundation (The Potter Orphanage Trust to Educate Rascals) is releasing the long awaited autobiography of Harry Potter.

The Foundation, headed by the late Mr. Potter's partner, Draco Malfoy, proprietor of _Perfect Potions_ and good friend Mrs. Hermione Weasley, Head of the Public Library, have announced that proceeds from the sale of the book will go towards the Hogwarts education of any child unable to afford the cost.

Mr. Potter's book, _A Certain Kind of Memory_, tells the story of his celebrated life in his own words and his very personal account of the illness that claimed his life. "While Harry was a most private person, he wrote the book for the people of the Wizarding world to see that he was just a man who made mistakes and had faults just like the rest of us," Mrs Weasley said, today. "And he wanted you all to have the truth about him and about his life and not have it altered by the rose coloured glasses of a society still grateful for something he did a long time ago."

Mr. Malfoy could not be contacted for comment; friends stating that he preferred to stay away from public discussion of his and Harry's life together.

This reporter would like to add that he had the privilege of knowing Harry and attending Hogwarts with him. He is sadly missed by all his friends, by Draco most of all, but we'll always have special memories of him to keep our hearts warm.

Seamus Finnigan.

.o0o.

**Appendix 1.**

_The letters Harry wrote on that last night._

Guys,

By now you probably know everything.

First up, I have to say I'm sorry and I have to try and explain why I didn't mention my illness to anyone.

The last time I prepared for death I was facing Voldemort and I knew I was going to die. At that point I didn't have the chance to say goodbye to anyone. No chance to set things right or say final words to anyone; it all seemed so surreal. And I remembered thinking at the time that if I'd had the choice, that was not such a bad way to go. Nothing could be done about it then but what can you say, anyway? Don't go? I'll miss you? Goodbye? Once they're said, what else is there to say or do apart from dwell on it?

I wanted, and yes, all right, it's selfish, but I wanted nothing to change. I didn't want to see the concern on your faces every time we met. The giving me the once over to check and see if you could see any symptoms. The worry and the anguish I knew you'd all suffer. Some of you would have put your lives on hold for me. Indefinitely. And that would have been ridiculous because I had no idea how long I had. They gave me some vague idea that was fairly accurate in the end I guess, but I would have hated any of you doing anything different or putting things on hold just for me.

And don't tell me you wouldn't have been any different than you normally are. You can't say that you wouldn't be thinking about it every time we saw each other. And that was what I wanted to avoid. I wanted to spend what time I had left in the company of my friends, enjoying being a part of their lives and living it with them.

Hermione, you know you would have dived into research mode and spent every second you had trying to come up with a cure for cancer. Or for mine at least. And then I would never have seen you speechless or married and I would have missed our lunches each week.

Ron, you wouldn't have been able to look sideways at me without wanting to either run as fast as you could away from it or curse something.

Gin and Blaise…how could I have played those scratch Quidditch matches without one of you telling me that maybe I shouldn't be?

Molly, you and Arthur have been the closest to parents that I have known and I can never thank you enough for that, but you know you both would have fussed over me so much that I'd have suffocated under it.

The knowledge would have put too much pressure on you, too, Seamus. Your job means everything to you and it would have been unfair to put that sort of story into your hands without you heading down to the pub regularly and drinking yourself into a stupor over it.

Luna, thanks for holding back as much as you did. I know they'd been telling you things for longer than when you confronted me about it – and no one hassle her about that, it's not fair. I made her promise not to say anything. Daphne, look after my girl, yeah?

Pansy…well, hell, I could have told you, I guess, because while we're friends, you've never held back from telling me I'm an arse and I wouldn't have expected you to stop now. But you would have told Draco and to be honest, if you'd done that I would have done something terrible.

I can't even begin to articulate what having Draco in my life as a partner has meant to me. If I had that time over again there isn't anything I would do differently, even though I've hurt him badly by not telling him. He's definitely the love of my life. Nothing even comes close. I've written him a separate letter, sticky noses, and if he wants to tell you what's in it then he can.

So, anyway, that's why I wanted to die in my own way, so that I could enjoy you all – without the encumbrance of your knowledge of my illness. Selfish? Maybe. Draco always did say I thought everything was always about me. Maybe he's right. If he is, then I behaved true to nature. If he's wrong, then I deserve to be selfish just this once. I am sorry you're all hurt by it, but I'm not sorry I did it. I can't be. I've had the best year of my life and you have all given me something so unique and precious that I could never ever thank you enough.

On to more practical matters. I want to be cremated; the thought of being entombed forever in a small dark place does nothing for me. I'd prefer to think of myself as flying with the breeze, so scatter my ashes somewhere you know I like. Over a Quidditch pitch somewhere. Just don't bury them someplace or keep them in a container and pretend I'm there. Don't put a headstone anywhere and then go there sometimes and plant flowers as if you're visiting me. You don't have to go anywhere to visit me; all you have to do to visit me is to think of me. And please, please don't let the Ministry put up stupid monuments to me. If people want to remember me, they can do so by donating to the education fund at the Orphanage.

And don't cry. I know it's too much to ask and I've done enough of it myself over the last year. But I'm going, hopefully, somewhere where my parents are waiting for me. Do you realise that now I'll get the chance to actually know them? Can you imagine how magnificent that is? Dumbledore always said that death was merely the next great adventure and I'm off on mine. It's only death. Nobody's to blame for death. It isn't a punishment for anybody's sin, none of that nonsense. It's just death.  
_  
_No sad music at my funeral and no grieving oratory and, most of all, no big fancy ceremony. I'd really like it if you just sat around and had a few drinks with all the people I love, so that when you remember my funeral you smile while you do it. Play the music I loved and turn it up. I'm going to check in a few times to make sure you're all okay.

Love me, remember me at my best and never forget how much I love you all.

Harry.

_Harry's letter to Draco not available to be reprinted_.

.o0o.

Golden lights from the streetlamps reflected oddly shaped forms on the windows of Flourish and Blotts. Being Christmas, it was snowing and the drifts had piled high against the shop wall in places but the shopfront windows were clear, backlit by bright spotlights highlighting the whole display window and the books therein.

Two people stood outside, looking through the window at the picture on the cover of each one of the books. A picture of a smiling Harry and Draco at Christmas in the chaos that had made him laugh so hard, was displayed under the title, _A Certain Kind Of Memory._

One of the onlookers sighed heavily each time the two kissed, a little tremor in his breathing as if he was trying to hold back too many memories or wishes. Or tears. His companion had slipped her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder, comforting and yet not obtrusive.

Their faces were reflected in the glass of the shop front. One pale and lined with grief clearly showed the pain of loss. The other, no less grieving, was smiling softly though.

"You chose a good picture, Draco. He would have liked that one. I remember we laughed so hard that day and it seemed like nothing could get any better."

Draco nodded, but said nothing; he didn't think he could manage to say anything without breaking down completely.

They stood silently for a while, just watching the loop of the picture.

"Are you sure that you won't come for Christmas dinner with us?" Hermione asked. "We'll all miss you."

Draco shook his head. "I can't. It will be too much like last year and…not the same without him." There was a fine tremble in his voice. He continued in a whisper. "And mother is expecting me." Harry had given her back to him and he wasn't going to forget that or let her go again.

Hermione leaned up and kissed his cheek. "All right. Look after yourself, Draco. We all love you, don't forget that."

He pulled her in for a hug, throat suddenly full. "I won't." He stood there holding Hermione as the snow started falling around them. "Not sure how I'm supposed to go on without him yet," was all he managed to whisper, before Hermione pulled back and smiled at him.

"When you feel up to it, go and talk to Luna. You'll work it out. He loved you for a reason, you know, that had nothing to do with how gorgeous you are. He loved how strong you are, how much dignity you carried yourself with and how much you'd grown. He really respected you, Draco."

Nodding, he let her go home. It was hard to explain just how Harry's death had affected him and he'd be lying if he thought he was coping well. Maybe when he came back from France, he'd go and see Lovegood. Maybe, if, possibly, could…they all seemed directionless, which was how he felt these days, like losing Harry had suddenly taken his rudder away from him and he was helpless without him there as a reference point, as he had been in one way or another since they'd been eleven.

First, he needed his mother.

Well, he really needed Harry but his mother was his mother and in a category all her own.

He stood and again faced the window display of books, leaning forward and resting his forehead against the cold glass. He knew it didn't do to dwell on the past but it had only been a few months.

He had time. He had all the time in the world to make those memories things he could look at and remember without feeling lost and alone.


End file.
